#the drafts are partly just me throwing out ideas and seeing what i like

[chaifootsteps]

I really feel you & anon about KenDraws - when the first allegations about poor workplace treatment came out I thought maybe it was a case of poor management over malicious mismanagement; that a new indie studio had hired a lot of people out of college and not supported them properly or set unrealistic deadlines and failed to account for the fact that people have to work multiple jobs to support themselves (though the sharing of Erin's medical info always disgusted me and there's no way anyone can 'two sides' that imo) - i.e. it was stuff they could learn from and get better about, but for me KenDraws' account was the straw that broke the camel's back.

My jaw was on the floor learning KenDraws was the one who suggested Alastor stay at the hotel for his own entertainment, because that's part of the inciting incident and setup of the whole show. It's the kind of idea and dynamic that you'd expect the creator to come up with and come up with first, and be thought out as part of the story going forwards.

And to credit such an integral part of the show, plus several jokes, as 'additional writing'??? That is not additional writing, that is concept writing and script writing. It really made me mad to see how much of a struggle it was to get even that bare minimum of credit when Viv dropped so many ideas and lines that weren't her idea into the final pilot and covered it up with 'that was early draft stuff/we changed things around'. Reading the Discord logs it's blatantly not that, and if I can get ad hominem for a second there's a really maddening 'I'm too lazy and untalented to come up with this on my own, please help me' wheedling tone in Viv's messages to Ken - the whole 'I'm good at this and not that' thing especially. If you aren't good at it then either focus the pilot around your supposed strengths or credit your co-writers properly! Anyone whose had someone lazy or untalented sponge off them knows how uncomfortable and annoying it is to be stuck with someone like Viv as a boss. It feels like the main reason Brandon gets to be credited as a writer is because he's already a 'name' but anyone Viv considers beneath her it's free game to steal their ideas and fail to credit them when they provide her massive amounts of help because she knows her fandom will merrily throw them under the bus with a minimum amount of prompting from her, and sometimes none at all.

It's why I'm so glad to see Ashley and Michael thrive outside her shadow. I've seen mixed opinions on Faustisse and I'm not up to date with that, but I did see the screenshots about the issues she had getting paid and assuming that's Viv she's talking about, no one deserves to be exploited like that.

Viv mistreats the talent, they go elsewhere - and they don't stop being better than Viv at the thing she's failing so hard at rn. I'm so glad to see the rest of the indie animation scene supporting each other so much: I think this is the sense of community people wished for when Helluva started and why the biggest scandal to hit the fandom felt like it was when the pilot VAs got dropped so unceremoniously. It's just partly a community of people who got burned working for Viv who now have a perfect mental model of what they don't want in their working lives so they can make something better. I hope all the best for the people she's hurt & used

I don't have a think to add to this, Anon. This is absolutely beautiful and well said.

[pascalispinkkkk]

joel miller x reader

word count: 2.5k

Note: This is my first tlou fic. English is not my mother tongue. This is mostly just a mildly edited draft as I wrote it in under a day so I'm sorry lol. I suddenly hyper-fixated on the idea and didn't want it to go anywhere. I'm not a writer so don't expect much loll. I've read a handful of fanfics here and just based this one on how most of them are formatted. I initially wanted it to be an "x male reader" thing, but I decided against it.

Joel x You (GN)

Joel and GN Reader are in an established platonic relationship.

Reader is curiously seeing Joel in a new light.

Tess and Joel were never a 'thing'.

Altered some details so the fic makes sense (kinda).

Some erotic scenes.

Setting: Jackson. After the Firefly Massacre.

"How much truth did you tell Ellie?” You stick your eighth cigarette through the pile of cigar butts on the oak wood table in front of you. Joel stares blankly at the clock across the dimly lit living room. He does not go into detail about what happened in Salt Lake City. You know as he's visibly tense. A deer caught in headlights. He shakes his head dismissively, his face stoic. The usual. You purse your lips as his eyes dart everywhere but you.

You let out a deep and defeated sigh. Joel puts both his hands on his knees. In your mind, that's the first sign he's about to say something. You study him a bit as silence drags on. It's been two days since they came back from Utah. But it doesn't look like he slept even a blink. You decide he needs more rest. So, you nod, partly just to drop it.

Joel uncorks the bottle of whiskey in front of him, filling his glass with yet another shot. He puts it down as his other hand hastily swipes for the glass in sync. "What's your plan?” You press as he throws his head back. He slaps the glass back down as soon as he empties it. You're surprised it does not break.

“I'll stick with the truth,” he finally says after a few beats. His dark brown orbs search yours as he adds "My truth". There's an array of currents that sizzle through your nerves. You recognize it as dismay. But, then warmth crawls through where the currents have been. Because you understand. How could you not? You search his face once more.

It seems like he zoomed through time three years ahead.

Under the pale moonlight, the scars and scabs along his neck and his forehead are visible. His skin is a bit drier. Wrinkles have formed where it used to be smooth. His cheeks have sunken, making his dimples look more visible. You take note of those two bald areas on his greying beard. How can they be in the same spot on each side of his face? You follow the swooping curve of his hooked nose. And then you’re staring at his eyes. Those dark brown orbs you've known for five springs. You reminisce how they’ve gradually softened through the years as he's come to know you. How he almost always talked to you through them. How they haunted you in your dreams for the past four months they weren't around.

Four months. You were left alone for four agonizing months. In Jackson. You insisted you wanted to tag along that morning after the movies. But Joel countered that you stayed. You were badly wounded from the run with Tess and Ellie, he retorted. You were needed here more. Tommy said something about the resources being scarce. It made you sneer. When the dreaded time came, you were left alone at the stables to sulk. Or so you thought. Because Joel walked right back in. He shuffled rather slowly. One foot after the other. He stopped when he was at least a good arm's length from where you were slumped.

"I'll be fine,” he said. "Promise me you will be, too,” there was a long pause. You heard him shuffling again. Before you knew it, he dropped his brown leather jacket beside you. "It's freezing. Wear that when you walk home,” he said in a monotonous voice. Not a word escaped your lips. You could only muster up a meek nod. Wordlessly, Joel started waltzing away. Very Joel, you internally scoffed. You kept your eyes on the leather jacket that he left. Eventually, his footsteps faded out.

In your mind, you ran after him and turn him around to face you. You let the rightful urge within you to make you punch his face repeatedly as you scream every curse word there was. But instead, you pathetically sat where you at. You couldn’t care less about the hay getting in your pants. Or the sudden sharp pain in your right leg. Letting him see this side of yours would be the last thing you'd want, you thought. But deep down, you knew you just didn't have the courage.

And so, after silently crying for a good hour, you aimlessly walked to the house you were assigned to. Feeling a little lost and betrayed. Why—of all muscles around here—does it have to be Joel, you thought. You were anxious about not knowing if they'll make it and when.

In the months that came, however, Tommy and Maria took good care of you. They saw how you had to lock yourself up for days on end as anxiety devastated even the tiniest last bits of your soul in your fingertips. Tommy gave you some linen and antiseptics that could last you several weeks. You insisted you can tend to your own wounds. There was a small window to your kitchen where Maria left the meals she carefully made for you. Most days, they were left there cold. Sometimes, you ate a portion. And then, on the 9th day, you noticed a hideous orange cat trying to pry open the Tupperware Maria had left you.

You named him Wes, anyway. You took him in. But he always hissed at you. He probably thought you were stealing the food Maria was making him. You started giving him some. A chicken wing. Some rabbit legs. Or a portion of your grilled cattle meat. He started warming up to you. And then eventually, you started making food for him. And yourself. The hissing stopped.

On the fourth week, you and he were cozying up on your bed. You figured you liked some warmth as the entire town turned into a tundra and the air became crisper and unforgiving.

Slowly, you came back. Your wounds were fully healed. Tommy had to bust the door open one cold morning. He sat you down beside the kitchen island. The scent of coffee wafted in the air from the mug set in front of you. A fork and bread knife rested beside the plated French toast Tommy made.

“You know Joel,” Tommy said "I know him. They're gonna make it.” But even he can't hide the slightest doubt from his voice. He took a swig from his now half-empty cup. “They’re gonna be fine.” Wes was curled up beneath your feet. You were drawing circles with your toes against his furry neck. "I know,” your voice was hoarse. You were both silent, just listening to the soft music you put on the phonograph. There was a pulse of wariness that started in your chest. But then Wes purred. And the anxiety almost instantly vanished.

“I see the way you look at my old brother,”

Your world stood still. You were thankful that the air was freezing. You hoped that it could somehow explain the sudden gush of heat in your cheeks. You dared to look at Tommy’s eyes. He was looking at his cup, the corners of his lips slightly curled upwards. “I uh…yea—"

“Just be careful,” he finally looked at you. “He uh, he’s been through a lot. He’s tough,” a long, cumbersome pause ensued.

“But that’s not the only reason I'm here,” Tommy’s piercing gaze now made you feel somewhat apprehended. “The town medic needs a hand. Joel mentioned you helped take care of the sick back in QZ,” there was a hint of hope in his voice. He sounded somewhat desperate, too.

“It could…take your mind off of some things for a while,” You gave him a side glance. Your hands trembled from the sudden wisp of cold air coming from the open window. After finishing breakfast, Tommy insisted he’d do the dishes. He talked to you about the offer once more saying, “Think about it,” before he went home.

So, the next day, you met with the town physician.

You went through the remaining months. Depressed. Functioning just because you needed to. Day by day. In the mornings, you went to the clinic. Saw a few patients with the doctor. Went home just as the sky started to take a warmer hue. Made food for you and Wes. Went to bed at night but never really sleeping. Everyday. Every Week. But there was just that one empty spot somewhere in that small thorax of yours. You can’t comprehend how it ached. Why it ached differently. How it turned into an empty limbo as you stared blankly at your tattered bedroom ceiling in the cold evenings. You can’t imagine how many times you’ve drawn Joel’s face along the cracks of that ceiling. Or that stained wall directly across your bed. How, one morning, you imagined that you’ll come down to the kitchen. See him waiting for you to join him at breakfast. What was Joel to you? You asked yourself. What were you to him?

One night, you startled Wes.

You shot straight up from bed, panting frantically. Wes screeched as he bolted out through the crack of your door. You were sweaty, even when the room was freezing. You saw them at the back of your eyelids. Joel’s brown eyes. Burning as they looked into your eyes through his lush eyebrows. He was smirking at you. “Oh, Joel,” you heaved.

You closed your eyes and let your delusions take over. He ran his coarse fingertips up your legs as he planted soft kisses on your neck. He made a wet trail with his tongue from the base of your neck up to the back of your ear. You can smell his sweat. That musky, leathery wood scent that made you squirm every time he walked past you. “Fuck, Joel…”

You finished that night, tired. Your mind was filled with haze. You can certainly feel your sleepiness. But your eyes stayed wide open. What have you done? You thought. Joel. You thought of the years that you’ve known each other. How you've gradually become comfortable but somewhat still uneasy around each other. You remembered the way you follow his every move with your prying gaze when you know he wasn’t looking. Or how you’d catch him looking at you when you turned your head.

You've known love. Now, you're not so sure. Because every man that you've been with throughout the years had never made you feel as clueless as you were with the man that was Joel.

You were unsure if you were drawn because he was who he was. Or because you imagine who he could be with you. What's it like to be able to run your fingers freely through that scruffy hair of his? How would it feel to sleep beside him? Your head on his chest. Your legs in a tangled mess. What would it be like waking up to those big brown eyes, guessing what was on his mind?

Now is the time, you think. You’ve lost him for almost half a year. Knowing you had to endure it without being able to finally say what you always wanted to say. How you felt for him. You are not going to waste one moment again, you internally swear. You'll never know when he's going to be taken away from you.

Joel uncorks the bottle of whisky once more. But before he can pour himself another round, you take the bottle away from his hand. “The fuck is your problem?” He drawls. Clearly mildly intoxicated. He stands up and reaches down for the bottle in your hands. He anchors his right elbow against the oak wood table. In a split second, he loses his footing. A tincture of emotions flashes in his features as he stumbles over. You struggle helplessly to help him keep his balance. There's a loud crash. Of the glasses breaking and the table toppling over and two bodies coming together.

There’s a lump in your throat as soon as you open your eyes. They are enthralling. Those brown orbs of his. The rest of the room turns black and white against the brown hues of his cow eyes. You can see the crinkles by the corners of them. They're a bit more sunken than they previously were. But the effect they have on you stays the same. You can feel your own heartbeat. And his through his chest as his weight pressed down on you. The sweet scent of whiskey invades your nose with every wisp of air he exhales. You realize he's looking at you. All over your face. As if you were a countryside map and he wanted to memorize every landmark he could before he explored you. Your eyes lock. He closes his. But you keep yours open.

You can taste him now. The shots of whiskey he's been downing. The cigarettes you shared. The pure flavor of his mouth. You open your lips just slightly wider. You want to know him. Good and bad. And so when he licks your bottom lip with his tongue, you let him in. The once tender kiss turns into an open-mouthed battle for dominion. If he was just longing for intimate contact for reasons other than what you're hoping for, you don't want to know. What's important now is he's here. On you.

His slightly overgrown beard brushes your chin as he angles his face to gain more access to his treat. He humps. You gasp. Your legs involuntarily part. There's a tent in his crotch. A whimper escapes your lips. He grumbles.

“Jesus, fuck, look at you,” he bites his now plumper lips. "You've missed me that much huh?"

A tear brims just in the corner of your eye. "You have no idea, Joel," you think as you take in his face. How imperfect he is. But beautiful.

His brown eyes are sinfully hooded. You have to pray to the gods that you’d never die of a heart attack. A small droplet lands in the corner of your mouth. You realize he is sweating. Not long after, you’re reaching out to that spot with the tip of your tongue. His salty, slightly sweet taste fires up something inside the compartment of your chest. The burning desire. The pent-up longing for such magnetic force of a man that is Joel Miller. Your head becomes clouded as you come undone. You hear him snivel. And then you notice you’re digging your fingernails into his enormous back. The familiar scent of his body wreaks havoc as it makes its way into your brain. That musky, leathery scent. The scent that makes you want to do unspeakable things. Your hands search for the buttons of his plaid shirt. He beats you to it as he straightens up and rips it open like a wet piece of paper. Just when you thought you wouldn't go even crazier. He leans in at an agonizing pace. His breath fans over your face as he whispers, "Shall we go to bed,” looking straight into your soul.

Joel puts his arms under your knees and around your torso. You let him lift you up. You can feel your arms snaking up around his exposed back. Your hands stop at the back of his neck. Then you are carried out of the kitchen. To the narrow hall of your house. To the dingy but quaint staircase. And finally, to your bed. His eyes never leave yours. Yours never leave his.

And as the night becomes deeper and all of Jackson falls into a bottomless slumber, it hits you.

You are in love.

[specialgradefckr]

Heyyo! I'm usually just a lurker, but your Heatwave series has been absolutely incredible and I had to write in. I'm not usually an ABO fan, but you are rapidly changing my mind. Started with the Yuuta/Rika piece and loved your characterization of that sad eyed dude. Sweet and mostly passive while also being fully aware of reader-chan's BS.

Day 4 tho??? 🥵🔥🥵 I'm a more recent Gojo convert and oh my stars, "...you think for a moment he sounds like a dog toy. You think you want to make him your dog toy." Arrogant, but also whiney and pathetic Gojo really hits for me. The Pining? Phenomenal.

Just wanted to gas you up a bit and let you know what an excellent writer you are. Totally looking forward to the rest of the Heatwave series and whatever else your big brain cooks up in the future! 😊

wanted to gas you up a bit

awwhhhhHHh THANK YOUUUU 🥺 i super appreciate it!!!

honestly i started this blog recently and i've been trying not to compare the numbers but sometimes i get discouraged, you know? like, i AM doing it for the art (i knew day 3 was not gonna get a lot of love) but i'm posting it bc it makes me happy to see people enjoying it.

it's super encouraging to hear from you (and all the others who leave comments or reblog etc.) that my work is doing well.

i'm trying to be more critical of my own writing, fix things i don't like about it, and sometimes i need a reminder that it's still worthwhile and enjoyable to read even when i feel like it could have been better.

I've been writing like? All 10 of the Heatwave prompts concurrently, and while it means I have all of them drafted and partly written rn, it also means I switch between them a lot.

Inevitably I start to kinda. Lose the plot sometimes of a scene I'm trying to write skdfhglsdhg like the intro to the Yuta fic was SOOOO long actually and it was rambling about social phenomena with alphas, basically the omegaverse version of red pill dudes LMAOOO

and that was also supposed to lead in to like. the idea of what a REAL alpha is. the non-gendered values of leadership, protectiveness, and actually being sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of people around them (a crucial trait for someone in a leadership position).

and yuta fits those things SO WELL. he is CONSTANTLY worried about the people around them, how they feel and what they think. he admires the shit out of his classmates who like, tried to attack him when they first met fghskjdfgh. he wants to protect them but he never looks down on them.

later in the manga we see that yuta's consideration and empathy isn't just for his classmates. he cares a lot even for people who are very capable of protecting themselves - he cares about their feelings.

so i just knew like. yuta and tsundere reader. yuta who can see though your fussiness because he's always been perceptive.

yuta who thinks you're hot bc he has a constant boner for strong women but also has a deep yearning to see you be honest and vulnerable with him, and goes feral for it.

yuta who you can be vulnerable with because you know him and his gentle smile, his kind words, how he looks up to you even though he's a special grade and stronger than you'll ever be,, hhhh....

but yeah anyways. *grasps you and shakes you by the shoulder* GOJO. GOJO SATORU BEING HIS PATHETIC NEEDY SELF. GOJO BEING YOUR SQUEAKY TOY AND LOVING EVERY SECOND OF IT -

tmi but "fuck me until i sound like a dog toy" is actually something a previous partner said to me??? i've never been much of a top but hearing that just kinda had me... hsdfgjhdsg HHHHHH

i think a major part of gojo's appeal is how he can be arrogant and pretty AND sultry all at once. there's something utterly delicious about a slutty confident man who is also crying screaming throwing up for you to let him put it in you skdhflsdhg

next heatwave fic is sdkfgsdlhgshg uhhhHHhh different from the ones you have read, it's a yandere piece with gojo and geto.

After that it's another gojo piece i think you'll REALLY like >.> masochist!gojo is a favorite headcanon of mine and i was actually super hyped writing some of the smut there so far hehe.

glad you've enjoyed so far! more to come for sure ;)

[hopeymchope]

Hector, a.k.a. the biggest misstep of Castlevania Seasons 3 and 4

I think pretty much everyone was in the tank for Castlevania's first two seasons, and just yesterday I made my feelings on the first season of "Nocturne" clear. But I want to take a moment to discuss the third and fourth seasons—the weirdest seasons, because they have the least to do with any of the video games.

Spoiler for my own thoughts, but: Season 3 is the worst year of Netflix Castlevania by a fuckin' country mile.

Season 2 was partly an abbreviated adaption of Castlevania III, but most of its running time is set on seemingly setting up its direct follow-up — Castlevania: Curse of Darkness. We meet Hector and Isaac, we learn how they came into Dracula's service, and we grow to understand Isaac's undying loyalty to his master juxtaposed with Hector's growing doubts. By the end of the season, Isaac believes Hector is a traitor, and Hector... is enslaved by Carmilla.

I loved this setup. It's a great twist on the game's backstory of Hector having betrayed Dracula because he was disillusioned by the genocide mission; instead, the animated series has his "betrayal" be more of a misunderstanding, but his doubts about the genocide are still very much there, made evident by how Dracula has to lie to him about his true intentions for humanity to get Hector to cooperate.

For the record, I loved Isaac's redesign and new backstory for the TV series. The Isaac from 'Curse of Darkness' an utter clown of over-the-top hamminess. We love him for it, sure, but we also sure as fuck don't take him seriously. :P

And his enslavement at the hands of Carmilla is a great hole to make Hector dig himself out of so he can become the hero we know him as from the games. It's better than the generic "my wife was executed as a witch just like Dracula's was, and it was Isaac's fault" backstory that the game gave him as an initial motivator. So I was amped to watch the story of Curse of Darkness unfold here: Isaac would become dedicated to resurrecting his master, and Hector would inevitably stand against him as he learned to hone his draft of making "innocent devils" — a version of the supernatural creatures he once forged for Dracula that were solely to Hector's will and his fight against the forces of the dark. Seeing a man who once served Dracula become a conflicted hero against his former master's resurrection... it's all I wanted. And the idea of seeing the show's version of Hector and its version of Trevor finally meet up in battle (as in the video game) and realize that they shared a mutual interest in stopping Dracuia had me absolutely TINGLING with anticipation.

....and by now, if you're an animated-series-only fan, you're wondering what in the FUCK I'm talking about. Because obviously, none of this comes to pass. The series throws out all of the games' story in favor of its own, completely different narrative. That's not necessarily an awful thing if you can make it thematically compelling and gripping to watch, but what we ACTUALLY got was slow, meandering, depressing, and unsatisfying.

I will not be dignifying THIS worthless subplot by spending any time writing about it. Y'all get this caption and this screencap; that's it.

In the TV series, Hector never becomes a hero. He spends the entire series tortured and imprisoned, slowly going through a very painful two seasons of hell. He never shows the strength of will he's defined by in the games, only barely beginning to even TRY to break free by the time Isaac shows up to kill Carmilla. That's right: Hector doesn't even get to fight and defeat his own slavemaster and captor! He just sits there and is pitiful while Isaac does all the real work.

If you're waiting for this badass to leap into the fray? KEEP WAITING.

Other elements from Curse of Darkness get introduced to the series in season 3, like the mysterious Saint Germaine and the Inifinite Corridor. But they're not even a part of the Hector-and-Isaac storyline; they're part of Trevor and Sypha's all-new storyline for some reason? See, Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard spend seasons 3 and 4 going through some stuff that's wholly concocted for the TV series. Their material in these years contains some good elements — top-notch action and certainly some wonderful dialogue... but Saint Germaine in particular gets done dirty, acting like two different characters in each of the two seasons. He undergoes a character shift that the writing fails to justify. He's the SECOND-biggest missed opportunity in the show.

But back to the main event here: the lack of Hector and the increasing prominence of Isaac. Instead of Hector becoming a hero who stands against Isaac, it's Isaac — you know, the main villain of Curse of Darkness? — who goes through some sort of redemption arc. I hesitate to call it a full-on redemption when he murders so many people wantonly along the way, but he's the one who becomes the action hero that fights vampires instead of Hector. And the reasons for this are... kind of interesting? Some of his dialogue exchanges as Isaac grows and learns during are pretty engrossing to watch, at least. These conversations are probably the more interesting parts of season 3, which is definitely the show's weakest season. (Isaac's stuff in season 4 isn't as good, mind you. But S4 is still the better of the original series' latter two seasons for other reasons.)

Warren Ellis, the writer of the first four seasons of the show, said that the voice actor for Hector — Theo James — sounded so heroic and yet so vulnerable that he enjoyed torturing his character as much as possible. Which is a pretty wack-ass motivation for a storyline, but it's nevertheless exactly what he did. As a result, Hector's arc is to be the series' "butt-monkey," to borrow a term from Buffy.

Suffice it to say that the result is not faithful to the games even in its basic tone or concept, and worse, I certainly don't find it narratively satisfying. Something that skewed closer to the video games by bringing the Trevor/Sypha storyline together with the Hector/Isaac storyline, making Isaac an increasingly powerful antagonist? That could've easily been so much greater than the path we ultimately went down via the disparate storyline of seasons 3 and 4. It's hard for me not to imagine that world... Hector, Trevor and Sypha in a battle against Isaac and the still-reviving Dracula, now fueled with greater rage at having experienced death, and now having no reason to hold back because his son isn't present in the new fight.

I think if you're going to deviate from your source material as hard as seasons 3 and 4 do, you need to justify it by giving us something better. There are certainly deviations from the established game lore in seasons 1 and 2 as well as in the first year of Nocturne, but I think those deviations acquit themselves admirably. "Nocturne" in particular goes for some big deviations that I was pleasantly shocked to see pay off.

And I'll give season 4 of Castlevania this: Making the final battle for Trevor be Death was a pretty good idea. (It would've been even better if they'd done the Father Zead twist from the games, but... ) Moreover—even though it REALLY fucks up the overall narrative of the video games and kind of screws up all future series/season attempts—giving Vlad and Lisa a happy ending was actually an EXTREMELY narratively satisfying thing to do. Viewing that in its own microcosm, its own universe? That's kind of brilliant. I have to respect it.

But even in its own universe, the new Hector storyline winds up feeling mostly like pointless angst-porn injected with some sexed-up titillation. It's by far the biggest mistake of the adaption, and it positively HAUNTS the show in retrospect; I can't even revisit season 2 without seeing how much that perfect setup was utterly blown. It makes most of season 2 hard to sit through now, knowing where it eventually went... and how much it wasn't worth the trip.

[ambrossart]

Hi! I just read your most recent writing update. I’m so excited for the next DWM short stories! I reread Post Prom a few nights ago, and it still gives me butterflies like it’s the first time I’m reading it 🦋

I meant to submit an ask a few weeks ago, when you were taking questions for your birthday. By the way, HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY 💓💓💓! I hope you had a great day!!

I was thinking about how Eddie and Reader share math class, and about how Eddie is notorious for throwing truancy laws to the wind. So here’s my question…

Either deliberately or subconsciously, did Eddie ever decide against skipping class because he knew he’d see Reader?

Wishing you the best!

(I honestly can’t remember, but if I already submitted this question and I’m repeating myself, please ignore me!!)

You did submit this question, actually! Sorry, I’ve had it sitting in my drafts and I’ve been working on it little by little.

Thank you for the birthday wishes! And man, your timing is always so perfect. I’ve had Stranger Things on in the background while I work and I’m slowly creeping up on Season 4. And I know once I get to Season 4, my obsession with Eddie is gonna get fully reignited again, so I’m trying really hard to finish this chapter of my Bowers gang fic so that I can treat myself with some shameless Eddie Munson indulgence. I really miss that man.

Anyway, about your question!

So Eddie and the reader have shared many classes throughout the years. It’s probably just a coincidence, but I could also see Eddie picking classes he thinks she might take. On a semi-related note, I also firmly believe she’s partly the reason Eddie refuses to graduate. I’m not saying it’s 50-50, more like 75-25, because the main reason Eddie’s putting off graduating is because he has no idea what he’s gonna do with his future. He’d rather stay in high school than face that monster, but I’m getting off topic.

Getting back on topic, Eddie does have a habit of skipping classes. The only classes he doesn’t skip are the ones he has with the reader. It wasn’t always that way, though. He used to avoid those classes like the plague because he couldn’t stand being around her. It was too painful. His broken heart was still bleeding, after all.

Eddie’s attitude changed when he had to give a presentation. No avoiding that. So he’s standing in front of the class, clueless, having to pull a fifteen-minute presentation out of his ass (which he does, of course, because Eddie’s a showman), and he hears laughter. Her laughter. It should sting, the sound of her laughter, but it doesn't. In fact, it feels strangely... familiar. All of a sudden, it’s like they're back in Scottie’s basement. Eddie’s performing in front of her. For her. And she's beaming at him.

That’s why Eddie doesn’t ever skip the classes he has with her. No matter how painful it gets (and sometimes it gets very painful) he toughs it out in hopes that once—even if it’s only once a year—he’ll get to see his old friend again.

Now would Eddie ever admit this to the reader (you had asked this in your original submission)? I think he would if it came up. He’s got no reason to hide it. And now that they’re together, I’m sure there are all kinds of hidden truths just waiting to come out.

[alltheangstmygifttoyou]

I can barely use tumblr without it crashing and this ain't what I usually put on my blog but I dont care bc I'm excited and want to throw ideas into the void!!! So under the cut will be SPOILERS for Helluva Boss all episodes released to this day (9/9/23 having season 2 episode 6 posted and the date of me typing this post). Cool? Cool.

Edit: (its now 12/10/23 and I see I never posted this lmao its just in my drafts. Which I have like fifty of 😅)

Okay okay so like: I'm a nerd who's an obsessive little bitch at times and when Fizz was explaining his side of events I was like... I'm not calling you a liar, 'cause Blitzø was definitely jealous, at least a bit, but I dont think jealousy over fame caused the biggest strain. So I went back through the episode slowly and took some screen shots of the flashback parts to show a bit what I mean.

[Image description: Cash Buckzo smiling as young adult Fizz reads card with words on the front saying "Wish you were My So" with Fizz's hand blocking the last letter. In the background of the image young adult Blitzø is watching behind curtains unhappily]

Pretty sure we can all tell that card really saying "wish you were my son" seeing how we know Cash is a shit father from season 2 episode 1. The deep blue (personally reminds me of space) and star decorations of the card are also an interesting choice, as well as the handwriting. It all points to Cash either having other people doing work for him, or being capable of doing these things himself, but not caring enough to similarly educate his kid in turn. So its no fucking wonder why Blitzø was upset! Theres a difference in wanting the spot light and wanting your parent to act like they love you instead of your bestest friend! (As someone who was the bestest friend at one point shit ain't comfortable!)

So Blitzø sees this shit and feels understandably hurt. I would too. He has a letter for Fizz, but logical or not, the hurt caused by Cash would sour emotions around Fizz for Blitzø for a little bit likely. So he removed himself from the situation before really ever entering, and with the shove he gave the cake holder and the talk of booze stealing from Cash later in the episode, I have to imagine that was his way of trying to not ruin Fizz's party. Blitzø throughout the series has been a bit quick to violence, volatile emotions would just worsen things. In some sense, if the fire hadn't gotten out of hand so quickly- or they waited until the cake was settled to light the candles, I'd argue Blitzø was making a more emotional mature decision than I normally think of him.

But then theres the card and flower itself. Its sealed with a heart sticker and says "Fizz's eyes only". The flower looks familiar. Five red petals all coming together to a yellow eye like center. Reminds me of the flowers in Stolas' hospital room in season 2 episode 4 Western Energy. People theorized that those petals dropping had something to do with the whole he loves me he loves me not game. The nature of these twos relationship is interesting.

I included these four screen shots because I think they emphasize the hurt Blitzø felt, his confusion, but mainly to point out Cash. When all the charecters are silhouettes we see one that is clearly Blitzø standing under Fizz's birthday banner. But behind him, one of the last sprinting out of the tent is a partly hidden silhouette. But the horn, head, hand/claws, and mustache make it clear that this is Cash once again. But when we see from a more street view Blitzø is alone when the explosion of fireworks happened. Doesn't this imply that Cash just not only left the kid who he wished was his son but also his blood son behind despite all he needed to do was grab them and push them to run?

[dravidious]

You're cool 👍

Okay so I started writing another draft for Team Playmates 3 and I am proud to announce that Jamie has been transformed into a very cool frog

[shana-rosee]

2021 fic year in review

 Total # of Completed Works: 24 (wow I did not realized I had wrote so much!)

Total Word Count: 64,570 (once again 😱)

Fandoms I’ve Written In: Merlin (TV)

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected?: Definitely more! This isn’t even counting on all the fics I’ve started and haven’t finished so I’ve wrote a lot! 😁

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year?: Probably You’d come over right? (Right?) It’s the first time I’ve written something this angsty and I really proud of how it turned out 💕 

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year?: When I started writing merthur fics I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel comfortable writing a full out sex scene but I did in Check the Pocket. 

Do You Have Any Fanfic Or Profic Goals For The New Year?: Just to finish the first draft of the crazy long fic I’m working on 😭 

Most Popular Story Of The Year?: To Idiots & Bets which was for Glompfest!

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion: Definitely Grief is Proof that You Loved. I’m super proud of this fic but seeing as I write mostly merthur and this is arwen I knew it wasn’t gonna get a lot of attention 😆 It also takes place after a funeral so I felt like that might throw people off 😅 but it’s a really heartwarming story that deals with grief and ends on a somewhat light note ❤

Most Fun Story To Write: Honestly, You Need To Calm Down 😂 It was so fun being mean to Arthur and treating him like a randy teenager 😂

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: Probably Under the Morning Glow and every other friends to lovers fic I’ve written (which is most of my fics 😅)

Biggest Disappointment: A Funny Feeling. I just feel like I could have done a lot better 😞 I know it was partly because I was rushing since my original idea for Elyan fest wasn’t working but still 😢

Biggest Surprise: A Future Worth Having having 93 subscriptions with only one chapter 😲 I mean I knew when I decided to make a sequel to The Most Important a lot of people would be excited since it’s easily my most popular fic but still, it surprised me 😅

I was tagged by @letstheriveranswer thank you! 🥺❤ 

Tagging: @nextstopparis @shut-up-merlin @witchmd13 @tcs-main @bellamyblakru @nuttersinc

[wuxiaphoenix]

On Writing: Trimming the Plot Kudzu

First, you get some really strong pruning shears....

Ahem.

Into every story, too many ideas will fall.

I know, when you’re staring at a blank page or empty document file, it seems impossible that you could have too many ideas. But that’s the sticky thing when you finally get writing. Like any bunnies, plotbunnies multiply.

“Oh, wow, these icehounds used by the Dread Lord are so neat, what’s their ecology like? Who dared to train them in the first place? And is that why the kingdom three realms over is at war, or - oo, I know! It started over an arranged marriage gone wrong, and the princess escaped! And she’s living in exile in the Hero’s kingdom, and if people find out she’s alive it could upend the whole political equation-!”

See what I mean? These are neat story ideas in and of themselves, but maybe not what you want if you’re trying to tell a heroic tale of a (careful!) fire-throwing Hero finally defeating the Icy Overlord of the Winter North.

And then there’s the really sneaky bunnies of the “and then what happens?” variety. With the “then” being after the end of the current story.

Those, I swear, are some of the worst. Partly spawned by not wanting to admit you’ve come to The End, where the story’s tied up the majority of loose ends and the Hero has triumphed! (At least for now.)

So how do you handle this kind of plot kudzu? Because it will sneak in on you at the worst possible moment.

Snip. Snippety-snip. Have a place - physical folder, spare document, pile of notes, whatever - where you can keep all those extra fragments. That way your brain doesn’t throw a panicked fit about discarding all that beautiful hard work, what if you need it later?

Keep your snipped notes separate from your main work, and try not to look at them unless it’s necessary. That way they stand less chance of sneaking back in when you’ve already decided they don’t fit in this story.

And here I’ll digress into, how does the plot kudzu get rooted so deep in the first place?

Fear. Fear and exhaustion.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again; writing a story is a lot of work. It’s your brain’s ultramarathon, the long-distance haul through Death Valley where you run on the white line so the asphalt doesn’t melt your sneakers off. It’s hard, it’s long, and when you’re flailing in the midst of it you can easily believe you’ll never manage to do this again, ever. So every shred of an idea you come up with has to go in, because there will never be another chance!

Bull. I tell you, bull.

I know, it’s survival fear, and that’s the absolute worst kind to fight. You may think, looking at the fact that I have published books, that it can’t possibly have as much of a hold on me as it does on “regular people”.

...It does, believe me. I’ve just learned how to scream and leap my way past it, flailing madly, sometimes with my eyes closed. Which can make for - er- interesting editing later.

(You also don’t see my towering pile of half-finished drafts and ideas that haven’t made it to a draft start. Yet. Gah.)

If your bunnies are insistent that clipping something is a Bad Idea? Take a step back and try to sum up your story in three sentences or less. What, at its core, is your story about? Does the new bunny support that basic Idea? If not, snip it. Keep it for later.

But what if later never comes?

When I finish a work, edits and all, my brain tends to go blank with No Story Here... for a while. Days, sometimes weeks depending on how long and stressful the project was. But. The ideas come back. Your brain just needs a little rest first.

The stories come back. And then you can dive into What Happens Next!

[quillvine]

Caffeinated

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Here have this monster of a fic. It’s been kicking around in my drafts for so long I had no idea what to do with or how to end it. I hope you guys like it! My requests are still open so don’t be afraid to drop a line :)

Masterlist

You’re awoken by the sound of Aaron’s phone ringing, it's his work tone. It’s too damn early for work especially considering it’s a Saturday. Next to you Hotch presses a quick kiss on your lips before reaching to grab his cell from the nightstand. He answers, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he listens to whoever’s on the other end. Before he even hangs up you know there's a case.

Aaron turns to you with his usual grim bossman look on his face. It’s a far cry from the cute  sleepy look that you’re used to seeing in the mornings.

“Why don’t you start the coffee? I’ll go call Jessica and check on Jack.” He tells you.

He leans over again to give you another kiss. This time it’s long and slow, his lips molding against yours. Your hands find their way to his messy hair and he shifts to pull you closer to him on the bed. 

All too soon he pulls away and you whine in disappointment, you’re not ready to start the day. Aaron just smiles pulling you up from the bed and pushing you towards the door. He pats your ass gently giving you another kiss before heading down the hall to Jack’s room.

He had food poisoning so you and Aaron had already been up later than usual making sure he was okay. The poor boy was hugging the toilet bowl way past his bedtime. You guys had hoped that you wouldn't get called away during the weekend, but alas the UnSubs of the world had their own agenda.

Flicking the lights on in the kitchen you get the coffee pot going. You also search the pantry for the individually packaged instant oatmeal that you guys keep for the mornings where Jack is running late for school. Neither of you are particularly hungry in the mornings but you figured that instant oatmeal is easy enough to make on the jet. 

Pulling your go bags from under the buffet table in the hallway, you throw the oatmeal cups into your bag and then head back to the kitchen. You pour the hot coffee into travel mugs and then set them next to your go bags.

Heading back up the stairs to the bedroom where you see Aaron buttoning up his work shirt. He gives you a quick smile before grabbing the pair of slacks on the bed.

You walk over to the closest to grab clothes and get changed. After a quick glance at Hotch who is tying the tie you got him for his birthday you settle on a red shirt to match his power tie.

“Jessica is on her way,” He tells you, walking over to where you're standing to give you a kiss on the cheek, “Jack’s okay, he’s still sleeping.”

When Jessica arrives, you thank her for coming on such a late notice and then hurry out the door into the car.

Once you guys hit the highway it seems like whatever early morning energy you had left you. Your body feels limp and your eyes are drooping which really isn’t good considering the fact that you the coffee was supposed to kick in already.

By the time you reach the office you’re feeling a little worse for wear but you have a job to do so you reach into the backseat to grab your go bag. Before you can exit the car Aaron grabs your wrist and pulls you into a slow languid kiss.

“One for the road.” He tells you.

You smile as you exit the car, maybe this morning will get better.

&

It turns out the morning did not get better. The flight was bumpy and filled with turbulence adding a headache on top of your tiredness. By the time you guys get off the jet and to the station you’re really not in a good mood. For some reason the caffeine still has not kicked in and you’re still exhausted. 

It’s six in the morning right now which means it’s still too early for you guys to check into a hotel so you have to leave your bags at the station. As soon as you’ve set your bags down, you’re beelining it to the break room, praying to whatever god is out there for a fresh pot of coffee.

Morgan is there already and smirks when he sees your disgruntled face. You groan internally, the whole team has been eyeing you since you got on the plane, they know how you get when you’re low on sleep. Morgan is the only one brave enough to toe the line with you.

“Oh ho ho, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. What happened, Hotch keep you up too late last night?” Morgan as you push past him to the coffee pot.

“He’ll have your head for that.” You grumble.

Morgan just laughs, giving you a teasing smile as he follows you. He actually has the audacity to beat you to the coffee pot and starts pouring himself a cup. You come up next to him and grab a cup of your own, as Morgan pours you a cup you fumble with the cream and sugar passing them to him. He thanks you, adding some to his cup. 

You stir your own coffee as you reach over to pour a cup for Aaron. He probably doesn’t need another cup, if anything he seems to be functioning fine but it’ll save you another trip to the break room if he doesn't drink it. Who cares if it’s cold.

Taking a sip from your cup you find that it is potentially the worst cup of coffee you’ve ever had in your life.

“Ugh, dishwater.” You grouse as you guys walk to the conference room the team has hijacked.

Morgan takes a sip of his own coffee and chuckles.

“Come on now you know that they never have the good stuff in these places.” He tells you as you guys walk into the conference room. “If you want anything other than dishwater you have to be like Pretty Boy and bring a whole pour over set.”

“Reid, I didn’t know you brought your Chemex on cases.” You say as you slide into the seat next to Aaron, giving him his cup of coffee.

He’s helping Spencer get the geographical profile going. There are no actual bodies at the moment, the girls are just missing. So you guys really only have the abduction sites and victimology to go on.

“You know,” Reid says as he looks up from the map. “The Chemex Coffeemaker was invented in 1941. It’s intention was to-”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. All I know is that the last time we roomed together you woke me up with all that fumbling around.” Rossi complains.

Spencer at least has the decency to look sheepish. He squirms under Dave’s semi-annoyed gaze and turns back to the map. You chuckle at the thought. Only he would have enough coherence in the mornings to meticulously weigh out the ratio of coffee grounds to water.

As you reach out for the victim files you’re startled by Aaron pushing his coffee cup over to you. He takes your hand and squeezes it gently.

“You need it more than I do.” He tells you.

You sigh happily, dishwater or not caffeine is still caffeine. Buzz from the earlier cup starts to thrum pleasantly through your body. Although, you think it’s partly because of the fact that Aaron is being so sweet to you today.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks.

You simply nod and squeeze his hand again. He’s so endearing when he’s worried about you. His big brown puppy dog eyes and the slight wrinkle between his brows makes you want to coo and plant a nice solid kiss on his lips. But the last thing you need is more teasing from Morgan so instead you bring Hotch’s hand to your lips giving his fingers a gentle peck.

He doesn’t look convinced though, still looking at you with a slight frown on his face. As cute as Aaron is when he’s pouty, he has you a little worried. Normally even a quick grab of his hand would warrant a gentle reminder about professionalism. The last thing any of you need are the local police thinking you're a two-bit agent sleeping with your boss for your position. You must be in really bad shape for him to act like this.

“Hotch I’m fine, really. I think it’s just a bad combination of lack of sleep and the turbulence from the plane ride here.” You tell him gently. “I’ll get some sleep when we get to the hotel, promise.”

You give him a small smile and Aaron seems to relax at your words. You scoot closer to him, grabbing the case files that sit on the table. Reid shifts the map a little so you can get a better view. 

As you pour over the files to help with the geographical profile your feet find Aaron’s under the table. You nudge them gently to let him know that really you’re okay and not to worry about you. He nudges your back, as a reminder that he’s here if you need him. You smile setting in for a long day of profiling.

&

You know you promised Aaron that you would try to get some rest in the hotel but the hotel bed is so lumpy and you can’t seem to get comfortable. It’s not like Aaron’s sleeping either, his workaholic ass is still pouring over the case files.

You can tell he’s stressed, this case is weighing on him, you can see it in his eyes. But some of his stress is probably from the fact that he’s worried about you too. You feel so bad, he doesn’t need to worry about you, today was just an off day. He has enough to think about already with Jack and the case and everything else this job is pushing on him.

You yawn stretching languidly under the sheets. Hugging the blankets you turn to look at Hotch. He’s sitting at the desk in the corner of your guys hotel room still dressed in his normal work attire albeit a little disheveled. The crease between his brow is deeper than ever and you can tell that if he stares at those case files any longer he’s going to give himself a killer headache.

Luckily for him you know just how to stave off the impending headache. He could never resist your charms, especially this late at night.

“Aaron…” You croon, “Come to bed, baby. I’m so lonely, why dontcha come and keep me company?”

From his seat at the corner of the hotel room Aaron chuckles.

“Come on now, none of that.” He tells you. “You promised me that you would try and get some sleep.”

“I know, I know, but the bed is so lumpy and uncomfortable and I’m so cold. Why don’t you warm me up?” You purr.

You feel like a sultry young socialite waiting for her lover to come back to bed. The only thing that is missing are the silken sheets and the feather soft mattress.

Aaron sighs and rises from the desk chair. His suit jacket is already flung across the back of the desk chair and his tie is undone. He heads over to the bed with a large grin on his face. You smile back and make grabbing motions with your hands.

The bed dips as he climbs onto to lie next to you. Pulling you into a hug Aaron presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What am I going to do with you?” He murmurs into your hair.

“Love me.” You say cheekily.

He laughs again and you laugh along with him. Oh god, his laugh is warm and honeyed and it feels like home. You could listen to it for days on end.

Patting his chest gently you say, “Come on baby get changed, you need to get some sleep too.”

Aaron gives you a quick squeeze before climbing out of the bed to change into his pajamas. As he slips out of his shit you purr in appreciation and grin wolfishly at him. He returns your grin as he wiggles out of his work slacks. Once he is fully changed Hotch pounces on top of you wrapping you into his arms. He flips you so you are resting on top of him, your head lying on his chest.

You bite your lip and bat your eyelashes at him. “Oh, so you want me on top tonight huh?”

“Stop it,” Aaron says with a low rumble. “You promised me that you would get some sleep.”

“Technically we would be sleeping together.” You tell him running your hand over his arms.

“Oh, you’re bad.” Aaron tells you as he leans up to nip at your lower lip. “But, you promised me that you’d get some rest, we need you at your best for this case.”

You sigh and roll off of him snuggling back into the blankets. He leans down to tilt your chin up so he can kiss you on your lips. He then reaches over to turn the lights off. With a soft smile you curl into Hotch and he gathers you up into his arms pulling you closer, the both of you settling in for a long night in a lumpy bed.

&

Normally, the sound of the engine is too loud for you to consider sleeping on the jet, but you’ve been running on fumes for the last couple days so you probably could sleep on anything that wasn’t a lumpy hotel bed.

You’re leaning against Aaron, your face planted firmly onto his side. Everyone else is asleep or trying to sleep, your boyfriend is the only one still awake. Honestly that silly stupid man would work himself to death if you and Jack weren’t around.

“Come on Aaron the paperwork can wait,” you tell him, “Why don’t we get some sleep?”

“You can get some sleep, I need to finish my report first.” He says not looking up from his papers.

You sigh and curl into Hotch’s side. It’s a little uncomfortable since he’s still upright and you can feel the movement of his arm as he writes. You focus on his even breathing and strong scent. Slowly, they lull you to sleep and you drift off dreaming of good coffee and nice hotel beds.

When you wake it’s to the sound of laughter. Rubbing your eyes bleary you see Derek and Emily with their go-bags slung around their shoulders. As you look around you see the rest of the team making their way off of the jet.

You look up when you hear a soft thud. Hotch has dropped your go bag next to his on the table. When he sees that you’re awake he leans down to kiss you on the lips.

“Welcome to the land of the waking,” he says with a teasing smile.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you ask rubbing your eyes groggily.

“Well, you just looked so cute in my arms I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you up.” He tells you to reach out his hand so he can tug you up.

You sigh a little as you stretch, your back cracking nicely. Reaching out to grab your go-bag you find that Aaron is already holding it with his own bag hanging on his shoulders. You grab his free hand and as you walk off the plane together.

When you get home you thank Jessica for looking after Jack and go upstairs to give the sleeping boy a kiss on his forehead. Collapsing in your nice not-lumpy bed, and drift off into a peaceful sleep. Just before you fall asleep fully you feel Aaron slide into bed next to you cradling you gently.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Tags (lmk if you want to be added or removed): @winterscaptain @yes-sir-hotchner @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @crying-river @genevievedarcygranger @ange-must-die @ogmilkis @saintd0lce

@agenthotchner and @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal I tagged you guys too, thought you might like it :)

[quickspinner]

Month of Miracles - Dressing Up 1

Okay, well, obviously this month didn't go anything like I planned, but I'm at least gonna finish the Hallmark AU! It's mostly written, I'm just finalizing it and taking care of all the boring stuff I always skip when I write the first draft! So never fear, we'll finish it before February. I think we have...three, maybe four pieces left to go (famous last words).

This is actually part 1 of 2--partly because I realized that what I had planned for this prompt worked better as two separate scenes and partly because I haven't quite finished part 2 yet anyway, so might as well split it so I can publish this part!

This was partly inspired by The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

Find the prompt list here!

Hallmark Movie AU Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 (end) | Read Month of Miracles on AO3

Marinette was sure she would never get used to this small town thing where people popped by without warning. She gave a slightly mournful glance at the pot of coffee that had just finished brewing, and went to get the door with a sigh.

Luka Couffaine stood on the other side, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a bouquet of multicolored flowers. He had that same look of longsuffering he’d worn when he’d come with his mother, but it softened into a smile as he saw her. 

“Um, hi,” Marinette said, suddenly breathless. Why was she nervous? It was just Luka. She just...hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, after she’d cried all over him. She felt both embarrassed and oddly shy. 

“Hi.” Luka gave her a lopsided smile and offered her the flowers. “Rose made me buy them and told me not to come home until you’d forgiven me for upsetting you last night.” 

Marinette’s mouth dropped open as she took the flowers automatically. “But you didn’t do anything wrong,” she protested weakly, looking up at him. 

Luka shrugged. “It was easier not to argue.” 

Marinette giggled a little at that, and Luka’s smile widened for an instant before he looked down. “To be honest,” he began, shoulders curling inward slightly, “I wanted to see you anyway. Make sure you were okay, after all that. It got pretty intense and...I didn’t mean to put that on you.” He straightened and met her eyes again. “I am genuinely sorry about that. I wasn’t intending to upset you so badly.” 

“You didn’t,” Marinette told him, laying a hand on his arm. “Really, Luka. It wasn’t you. And I appreciate that you showed me something so…” she hesitated. 

“Raw?” Luka supplied, with a half smile, and Marinette hunched her shoulders a little in embarrassed acknowledgement. “Sorry if it was too much.”

Marinette shook her head, looking down to play with the stems of the bouquet. “I understand why you did it, and I feel...maybe flattered isn’t the right word, but it’s as close as I can get. I appreciate that you showed me that even though it was hard for you. I do feel like I understand you better now, and…” she shrugged. ”It was worth it.”

Luka glanced away, but he was smiling. “It wasn’t as hard as you might think. Not when it was you.”

Marinette blushed, not at all sure how to respond to that, and there was a moment of awkward silence before Luka cleared his throat. 

“So, um…” he winced. “Rose kind of needs a favor, and so after I groveled at your feet,” he grinned, and Marinette huffed a quick giggle, “I was supposed to ask if you’d be willing to come over to the library and take a look at what she needs. I can take you now, or you can swing by later, whatever works for you.” 

“Oh,” Marinette blinked. “Uh...sure, now’s good I guess. Just��let me put these in some water and get my coffee in a travel mug?” 

“Yeah, sure, no rush,” Luka said, backing up a step. “I’ll get the truck warmed up.” 

He retreated with quick steps, and then climbed into his truck and started it up, holding a hand over the air vent. It had gotten most of the way warmed up on the trip over, but the air blowing from the vents was still a bit chilly. 

What am I doing? he asked himself, and then sighed. He really didn’t know. He just...he felt his expression soften as he glanced up, watching Marinette come out of Gina’s door. He hopped out to open the other door for her. It was a big step up for her into the truck, and when he took her coffee and held her arm to steady her, she turned a warm smile on him that he felt all the way down to his toes.

Okay, he definitely didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew he had to do something. These feelings weren’t going anywhere, and he was starting to feel like a liar, hanging out with her as friends without telling her he was beginning to have deeper feelings for her. 

Way past beginning, if he was honest. 

Well, he thought as he handed back her coffee and closed her door, I was always good at winging it.  

“So what is it that Rose needs?” Marinette asked, as he got up into the driver’s seat and closed the door. 

“Well,” Luka said, flashing Marinette a quick grin, “it seems that there was a mishap in the storage of last year’s pageant costumes, and Rose is hoping you can bail her out.” 

Mishap, he called it. Marinette stared in horror at the costumes Rose had laid out. They were moldy, and stained, and moth-eaten—no, that couldn’t have been moths, did they have rats? Ugh. Marinette’s skin crawled just looking at them.

“Do you think you can save them?” Rose asked, hands folded together in a pleading pose, huge blue eyes staring at Marinette over them. 

Marinette winced. “Rose...I don’t think there’s any salvaging these. I don’t know what got to them but…” She looked back at the tattered cloth and shuddered. “I think you’d better burn them.”  

Rose’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “Oh no!” she whispered, both hands covering her mouth. 

“But I can try to make you some new ones,” Marinette blurted, and then winced. Oh no, why did I say that??  

“Really?” Rose squealed, bouncing several feet in the air. “Oh, Marinette, you’re the best!”

“Hold on,” Marinette cautioned, even as Rose threw herself into Marinette’s arms. “Rose,” she tried again, patting Rose’s back reflexively. “I said I’d try, but…”

Rose ignored her, seizing her hand and dragging her over to a small crowd of children and teenagers sprawled in, on, and even under some of the library tables.

“This is our cast,” Rose said, throwing out her hands with a proud grin. “So you can get whatever measurements you need right now!”

“I don’t—” Marinette began, but fell silent as Rose kept talking, making one-sided introductions that Marinette was absolutely not going to remember. Still, it made her look at the children and... 

Marinette had to admit, she could see both why these children had not been picked for the traditional pageant and why Rose was offended about it. The two tallest wore black and slouched their shoulders, hands shoved in the pockets of long coats as they peeked at her through the hair falling in their faces. A shorter girl had pads on her knees and elbows and a sideshave with pink tips on the long side, and was listening with a slightly bored expression to a bubbly redhead who had piercings all up the shell of one ear. A boy sitting next to them, reading a book with his feet propped up on another chair, had pierced ears, killer eyeliner, and a multicolored ombre manicure that made Marinette envious.

The whole crowd was like that, and some of them looked more...mainstream, than others, but they all had something that stood out about them that didn’t exactly say ‘host of angels greeting the holy family’ in the strictly traditional sense. 

“Normally nobody really cares about appearances, but they get stubborn about Christmas and the Christmas pageant,” Rose said with a shrug. “Nobody says it outright, but it’s no coincidence that the traditional kids get picked every year, you know?” 

Looking at the little crowd of kids, Marinette saw a disparate set of personalities, both clinging to stereotypes in an effort to find an identity that worked for them, and breaking out of those stereotypes in new and interesting ways, and she would have loved to follow them each around for a day just for the ideas they sparked in her. 

This wasn’t the time for that, though. 

“I’ll need some materials,” Marinette said doubtfully. She’d already been to the only fabric store in town and it was closed, the owner having gone on vacation somewhere warm and sunny for the month. 

Rose frowned as well, and opened her mouth, but was interrupted. 

“I can help with that.”

Marinette jumped and turned, looking up as Luka gave her a smile. “Hi,” he said, amused, and Marinette blushed. She’d forgotten he was there. 

“I have racks of clothes from my shows in the attic.” Luka shrugged, as if he didn’t notice her discomfort. “Jagged always has a clause in his contract about getting to keep his tour clothes, so it ended up in mine too. You’re welcome to scavenge it for anything you can find.” 

“O-oh,” Marinette blinked. “Well...it’s a start, right? If you’re sure.” She frowned. “That’s probably some really expensive clothes though.” 

Luka shrugged, indicating the hoodie and jeans he wore. “I’m not exactly using it. Might as well go to a good cause.” His gaze softened a little as he looked over her head at the kids. 

Marinette smiled, and looked back as well. “Okay, Rose. Let’s go over what you need and who’s going to be using what, and I’ll get whatever measurements I need.”

“Great!” Rose chirped, bouncing as she clapped her hands. 

The next little while was a bit of a blur, as Marinette tried to take notes on Rose’s chatter while meeting the kids a few at a time. They all looked a little hesitant at first, so Marinette put on her best, most reassuring smile, the one she used with inexperienced models who were nervous about their first big fashion show, and asked them cheerful questions as she took their measurements. She kept the topics light, asking them about their pins or patches or hair color, and most of them had mostly relaxed by the time she was finished. She surprised one or two with her knowledge of video games and laughed when one of them challenged her to a mech strike duel. She wrote her handle on a slip of paper and gave it to him with a wink, and managed not to laugh in the poor boy’s face when he blushed. 

“I think that’s everybody,” Marinette said, waving to the last one, and turned around, blinking. “Where’d Rose go?”

“Hmm?” Luka had been sitting nearby at a table, chin in hand. He blinked like he was coming back to earth, and Marinette felt a twinge of guilt. No surprise he was zoned out, he must have been so bored just watching all of this. She should have let him know he could leave. Surely he had work to do and she could have walked back or gotten a ride with Rose. 

“Oh, I bet I know where they are,” Luka said, rolling his eyes as he got up.

“They?” Marinette echoed, following him. 

“Juleka showed up a little while ago,” he told her. “You were busy at the time.” 

He led her around a bookshelf into a little reading alcove, and Marinette stopped dead, hands flying to suddenly red cheeks. Luka knocked on the bookshelf next to him with an amused, slightly exasperated smile. “Hand check, ladies.” 

Juleka was standing there curled over Rose, her long hair partially hiding the shorter girl from view, but it was plenty clear what they were doing. The sprig of mistletoe in the middle of the decoration hanging over them removed any doubt. 

“What?” Juleka said, annoyed, as she raised her head from a very kiss-bruised and blushing blonde. 

“I’m, um, finished,” Marinette said, embarrassed, waving vaguely back the way they’d come. “You can get on with rehearsal now.” 

“Oh, yay!” Rose perked up. “Thanks Marinette, you’re the best.”

“You have lipstick on your face,” Luka said helpfully, holding back a laugh. Juleka flipped him off, but Rose just linked her arm through Juleka’s and sniffed. 

“Hmph. You’re just jealous because you wish you could kiss Marinette under the mistletoe. Come on, Juleka.” She dragged her smirking girlfriend off and around the shelves (though she did wipe most of the lavender lipstick off her mouth as she did so).

“Sisters,” Luka muttered. “Just my luck I’m gonna get stuck with another one.” He looked at Marinette’s blushing face and grinned. “You okay?” 

She began to splutter, and Luka couldn’t help laughing. “I’m gonna take that as a no,” he teased.

“How can she say something like that!” Marinette groaned, ducking her head and covering her red cheeks with her hands. 

“Well.” Luka licked his lips, and debated for maybe half a second before he went on. “It’s not like she’s wrong.” 

Marinette’s insides froze. Her head snapped up to look at him. Luka gazed back at her, looking calm though there was a tint of pink in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before. He glanced up, and with a crooked smile, took her hands, pulling them gently from her face. 

“I really would like to kiss you,” he admitted. He stepped back, tugging her lightly along with him until he paused and looked up. Still stunned, Marinette followed his gaze, up to the mistletoe decoration hanging from the ceiling. Oh. 

Butterflies took sudden flight in her stomach. She dropped her wide-eyed gaze back to Luka, only to find he was watching her.

“Only if you want to kiss me, though,” he said, with a slight shrug. He threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her a little closer. 

He held her gaze as he bent purposefully towards her. Luka bent until his nose was just brushing hers, head tilted just so, waiting, still watching her through half-lidded eyes. Heart hammering, senses suddenly full of him, of his rough hands in her and the evergreen scent that hung about him, his face filling her vision with those eyes so soft and yet so intense— 

Impulsively Marinette raised her face just enough to let their lips brush together. He didn’t move away, and Marinette did it again, pressing in a little more this time, and then Luka leaned into her and they were really kissing...lightly, but fully. 

It was...electrifying. Their hands untangled as they moved closer together, and he was so solid and strong and warm where she leaned on him. Her hands found his shoulders as his slid up her back, and it felt so good to be held, to feel wanted by anyone, let alone someone who was sweet and kind and down to earth while also being so... exceptional. But...even as his lips moved over hers she couldn’t push aside the fact that she was leaving. She had barely a week left, and then her whole family would descend on the town for Christmas dinner at Gina’s house and then...then she would be gone, and what...what would she do then? What was he expecting her to do? She had commitments and a career and he didn’t want that kind of life anymore, and— 

Luka pulled back with a soft click, his eyes staying closed just a moment longer than hers, before he opened them and smiled softly at her. “You’re thinking awfully hard for someone who’s being kissed,” he murmured. 

“It’s a terrible habit,” she said shakily. “I wish I didn’t.” 

“Then don’t,” he said, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. His thumb caressed her gently. “It doesn’t have to be about anything but the here and now, Marinette. Just let the moment be what it is.”

“That’s all well and good,” Marinette sighed, “until the future is the now and you have to deal with the consequences. Luka, I’m leaving.” Unconsciously her fingers played nervously with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I know,” he said thickly, and cleared his throat. “Maybe I’m just not as efficient as you,” Luka grinned. “But personally, if the outcome is the same either way, I’ll take being deliriously happy for a week over moping around crying in my cheerios until you leave.” 

Marinette burst out laughing at that, and Luka chuckled along. “I’m not trying to pressure you,” he told her, leaning back and lifting a hand to cradle her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “I’m just saying...I’ve come to care about you a lot, Marinette. More than just friendship. I hear you. I know where you stand. I’m okay with whatever you’re willing to give me, whether that’s just this and nothing more, or a couple of dates, or...whatever. You don’t have to worry about leading me on or giving me false expectations. I just want to be with you while I can.”

Marinette sighed. “How can that be enough for you, though? If you really—I mean—”

“I do,” Luka told her softly, tilting her face up to look at him. “I really do, Marinette. Please don’t doubt that. And it’s really not enough,” he admitted, with a sigh to match hers. “If more than that were on offer, I’d gladly take it, but…” He shrugged. “What do we have to lose?”  

Marinette looked at him, caught between conflicting realities. She liked him—she hadn’t even realized until now how much she liked him, but—what was he even asking her for? A week long fling? She...she didn’t do that kind of thing, she wasn’t sure she could, and...she didn’t know if she wanted to take on the pain of losing him, and wasn’t it better to just...just be friends for the time they had left? Could they even be friends after this?

Luka, watching her again, stepped back and dropped his hands back down to hers. He squeezed her hands gently, bringing her focus back to him. “Listen, we’re still friends. If you decide you’re okay with being more than that for the time you have left, you let me know.” He sighed, but cut it off and smiled. “Come on, if you’re done here, I’ll take you home.” 

He dropped one hand, but kept a gentle hold on the other, squeezing it lightly before he dropped it so she could pack up her things. Marinette packed her kit mechanically, glancing at him. Luka appeared perfectly at ease, chatting with one of the kids, and he didn’t so much as look at her. Trying to make things easy, she supposed, as he always did. Giving her some space, maybe, to absorb the sudden shift in her reality.

The reality where Luka—who was also Luke Stone the rock star and that was definitely too much for her to think about right now—liked her, as more than a friend, and told her so, and kissed her, and oh my I kissed Luke Stone, Alya would freak —

She knocked a coiled up tape measure off the table and it bounced and exploded into a tangle on the floor. One of the kids scrambled over to pick it up for her, and she managed to thank her with a smile, and just stuffed the whole jumbled thing into her usually-immaculate kit.

Her hands were shaking as she snapped it closed and looked for Luka. He smiled at her, and made his farewells to the boy he’d been talking to. He walked beside Marinette to the door with his hands in his pockets, and opened it for her. It was a stupid thing to blush about but Marinette did anyway. 

She still accepted his steadying hand to get up into the truck, and the smile he sent her was reassuring. She relaxed a little. He didn’t seem angry or hurt, and her nerves eased a little bit as he climbed up in his seat and started up the truck. 

Neither of them said much on the way home, and Marinette was grateful, because she was sure she would start to babble if she opened her mouth at all. Luka turned on some music, and Marinette smiled slightly as she realized it was Jagged’s latest album. She ventured to ask a question about one song in particular that she had always wondered about, and Luka answered her easily with a tale about the night on tour when Jagged had been inspired to write the thing. Marinette felt a little better by the time Luka dropped her off at home. Maybe this was okay after all. Maybe he was right and they could still be friends from here. 

“You can come look at the clothes whenever you’re ready,” Luka told her as he held her kit while she jumped down from the seat. “The farm’s effectively closed for the season since pretty much everybody has their tree now. Just come on over once you’ve got an idea what you need.” 

“Okay,” Marinette tried to smile. “Thank you, Luka.” 

Luka chucked her gently under the chin. “Don’t make me something else you’re worrying about, okay? You don’t have to tell me what’s going on but I can see you’ve got some things weighing you down, and I don’t want to be one of them. I’m just...I’m here for you. However you want me to be.”

Marinette’s smile was maybe still a little wobbly, but much more sincere. “Thanks, Luka.” 

“Sure.” He let her take her kit back, and watched her until she was inside. Then he turned and climbed back up in the truck.

Luka was very, very good at keeping it all together. He didn’t freak out, he didn’t panic, and he didn’t get upset—on the outside. His hands shook a little bit right before he gripped the steering wheel, but otherwise he was completely normal, right up until he shut the door in his own room at home.

Even then, all he did was bury his hands in his hair, slide down the door to sit on the floor, and sigh heavily. It was done, after all. He’d made his move and now he had to live with it. Luka didn’t regret it, exactly, but...he wished things were different. He really did. Maybe he should have talked to her instead of going straight to kissing, but...

He let go of his hair and thumped his head back against the door. He needed something to do. 

Well, the attic was probably a disaster. Might as well go up there and see if he couldn’t make it less of one before Marinette came over.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

[fanfic-mind]

Blood on my hands (all that i've gained and all that i've lost)

pairing: merthur

warnings: non

status: fanfic draft, Part 1/? (~ 2300)

It’s yet again an hour of need for Camelot. But the weapon they need to safe kingdom and people comes with a price. Only those who prove that they are powerful and wicked can receive it. The knights of Camelot don’t have enough evil deeds to be worthy of the sword. They think everything is lost - until  Merlin speaks up...

A magic reveal story in which Merlin makes good use of being a morally grey character. Because, yea, Merlin-is-the-victim-reveals are swell and all but he is capable of making his own decisions and some of them are pretty shady. There is still a good amount of Uther bashing included.

Somehow they get into a situation that requires someone with blood on their hands - figuratively (otherwise it wouldn't be a problem because seeing how often Arthur and Merlin and also Gwaine get wounded by just existing they probably wouldn't even have to injure anyone)

Maybe a god of the Old Religion guards a weapon they need to kill the magic beast of the week or to destroy a cursed item.

In any case: they are really desperate. People are dying and this is their last hope, their last resort.

To their misfortune, this weapon is guarded by a very cunning and wicked god and they will only give their weapon to someone who has the power and the will to use it for evil deeds

There is a test that must be passed by the one who wants to receive the weapon. They must prove that they did enough evil deeds to be worthy of it.

Arthur quickly fails his test because despite some wrongs he's done he is way too just and noble to be wicked

The only knight that seems to get at least a few moments more of consideration is Leon who has done some terrible things - however under Uther's orders which isn't quite powerful enough

"Ahh, Uther Pendragon," the god muses, "Him i would have given the weapon. Such rage and blind hatred and, oh yes, so much blood."

Arthur grits his teeth and sets his jar. he wonders if his father would be disappointed in him for not living up to this legacy of his. he wonders - not for the first time - why he wanted to be like his father once and how he managed to end up being so different.

The knights discuss their strategy. non of them is wicked enough to pass the test. they have wicked people in Camelot's dungeons. But Camelot is three day rides off and their quest is really urgent.

They could separate and seek for wicked folk, but the chances seem slim and the risk of them keeping the weapon as they receive it seems too big

People are dying and they need to do something now.

"there must be another way to destroy it," Lancelot suggests, though they've been over this. His eyes stray to Merlin, but Merlin seems caught up in thought.

If there was an easier way to do this, Merlin and Gaius would have come up with it by now. asking the god had been their idea in the first place.

"What if there isn't?" Gwaine argues heatedly. "We can't have waisted six days for nothing. This is probably our last chance."

"so what do you suggest?" Lancelot interrupts somewhat irritated. They temperaments are heated at this point. And suddenly knowing each other’s worst deeds doesn’t exactly lighten the mood. "All of us failed the test. i wouldn't have thought that I'd ever be angry about being found too good and noble."

Gwaine shrugs with a grimace. He hadn't thought that he'd ever be deemed good and noble in the first place.

"maybe there's a way out of that," Arthur says. He hasn’t spoken in a while and all heads turn towards him.

"what do you mean, Sire?" Leon asks, looking uneasy as if he already knows and doesn't like it.

"If you're not noble enough, you proof your nobility by doing good deeds," Arthur starts matter of fact. "so, logically, if I'm not wicked enough, i prove my wickedness by doing an evil deed."

The god smiles a toothy smile.

"To murder just anyone obviously isn't evil enough" Arthur says, looking at the god with disgust. "so it must be somthing worse. murdering a friend, for example."

"My king, with all due respect, this is madness," Leon say carefully.

"sir Leon, that's the point." Arthur says sourly.

"is that really it?" Gwaine shouts at the god who watches his outburst unimpressed. "You want us to slaughter each other?"

the god laughs, distant and hollow and the earth seems to vibrate with it. "The weapon can only be taken by those of power who are wicked and cunning enough to wield it." the god repeats his earlier words.

"So there's not even a guarantee," Gwaine says, throwing up his arms. "Arthur, let's just leave and see if we can find something else."

"there is nothing else, Gwaine, you said so yourself!" Arthur returns. His expression is incredibly pained but determined in a way that makes them all shudder. Leon, Percival and Lancelot unconsciously get into fighting stance.

Gwaine takes a few steps to put himself between the king and Merlin who is the most vulnerable

Arthur nods to himself, seemingly coming to a decision in his head.  Tehn he draws his sword . "If either of you kills me while i try to kill you, that might be enough too" he muses

They all stare at him in horror, unable to believe that he will go through with this.

"My people are dying," Arthur says, his tone pleading, "if i have to sacrifice my good conscience to help them - well, it is a price i must be willing to pay. I'm sorry. But all of you swore to protect Camelot at all costs too."

Arthur halts for am moment then nods grimly. "Don't try to sacrifice yourself. I'm sure that's not what he's looking for" Arthur nods towards the stony god who smiles.

"you can't be serious" Mordred whispers.

"I'm afraid i am. Now, it's been an honour. truely. and i hope - i hope I'll still have your respect afterwards. Though, i can understand if you can't trust me again."

"that's enough."

They all turn around. Partly, because they had forgotten about Merlin who has been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. and partly because they have rarely heard this sort of tone from him. harsh and demanding. a voice more fit for a king than his manservant.

They stare at him and he makes short eye contact with Arthur before he steps forward, in front of the statue that the god is using as a vessel.

"test me." Merlin says. his voice is determined and his shoulders are set.

Arthur let's out a short laugh, because clearly this is absurd, right? Merlin is the best and kindest of all of them. Actually, coming to think of it, if he's really honest, Merlin probably is the reason Arthur is not like his father. Merlin makes him better. Merlin makes him want to be better.

A few of the knights share his sentiments, laughing slightly hysterical with tension but still perplexed over this development.

Only Lancelot steps forward with a frown as if to pull him back, but merlin raises a hand without looking at him and he stops in his tracks.

Arthur who was about to say something stops too.

The god looks more alive than before he seems to stretch himself to his full height as if he has waited for this

"welcome" he starts as he has with all of them. "young warlock, tell me your deeds."

lancelot tenses, casting a worried glance back at the king who stands there, sword still drawn, eyes fixed in Merlin as if he doesn't understand any of this

Lancelot doesn't either. Even if Merlin is a sorcerer - what evil deeds can he possibly have done? Saving Arthur's life over and over without ever seeking credit doesn't have a ring of evil to him.

"I am Merlin, and they call my Emrys." Merlin starts.

Some of the Knights gasp. Emrys is a name they know by now.

Lancelot wonders whether Merlin considers his identity an evil deed in itself. The possibility breaks his heart a bit.

"I was born with magic. I am the most powerful sorcerer there is."

Merlin takes a deep breath.

"i lied to all my friends. I let them think they can trust me, that they know me. But they never will. I could kill them just by looking at them. I am magic and i killed many behind friends backs and before their eyes, but never revealed myself to them"

"I am a slayer of my own people," he continues, his voice hard, "I killed many creatures and men of magic to protect their murderers - the king and his son. I did it out of self-righteousness and out of selfishness because...” for a moment, Merlin halts, but then he continuous with the same hard tone as before, as if something is forced out of him, but he wants to stand for it.

“I loved Arthur more than my own people. i let many of them die even though i could have helped them if i had revealed myself. But i couldn't bear the thought to be separated from him so i stayed quiet and watched them burn."

The god nods Merlin on. They all stand in shock. They know from before that Merlin won't be able to stop telling his deeds before the god thinks he is done.

"I killed the witch Nimueh even though she told me i have to pay with a life to save Arthur's. Instead of giving my life as i promised, i killed her."

"I killed Mary Collins, Afanc, Aulfric, Sophia, Cornelius Sigan, Myror and many more. "

Merlin's voice falters a bit, but he seems to pull himself together visibly, because his voice is clearer again when he keeps speaking.

"My betrayal to my people is so great, my wickedness so deep, i considered to kill a child on the mere possibility that he could threaten what was mine in the future."

Mordred makes a quiet stricken noise.

No one dares take their eyes off Merlin, but Merlin himself turns his head slowly.

There is a gasp of horror when they all see that his eyes are glowing yellow with magic.

Up until now, no one except Mordred and Lancelot had truly believed it.

"I tried to kill Mordred when he was a child and i wish his death even now though he is kind and serves Arthur."

Lancelot looks at Merlin with complete bewilderment as Mordred sobs.

Merlin doesn't answer Lancelot's gaze, he just turns around again.

They can hear him take in another breath and it sounds more halting than before.

"I knew that my friend had magic and i saw her turmoil and her fear of being killed. of being burned by her own kin like all of the others. but instead of helping her, i left her in the dark. I told her to trust me - she trusted my - and then i poisoned her."

Merlin stops for a moment, his voice sounds rough as if speaking becomes quickly more difficult.

"I gave Morgana poison in full intend and watched her as she died and i regretted when she was healed."

"Only i had the power and knowledge to save her, but i turned my head from her suffering, i killed her when she didn't know better than to turn to her sister, it was me that made her what she is today."

There is another short pause. Lancelot is desperate to see Merlin's face. To demand how this all really went. Because though he knows that Merlin is bound to say the truth by the power of the god, he still thinks there must be a mistake or a trick. This is not Merlin. Merlin would never...would he?

"I conspired with and freed the dragon that attacked Camelot which led to the death of many innocent people. I attempted to kill Arthur on multiple occasions."

Lancelot frowns. This one he knows to be untrue. Merlin didn't want to kill Arthur. it was Morgana's doing that he went after him.

"i saved Uther Pendragon's life - more than once. I let him live even though he slaughtered my people. I saved his life even though i didn't have to. I never killed him even though i had many opportunities."

Merlin pauses then, looking up at the god.

"Do i really need to go on?" he asks and it sounds almost indifferent. except they know Merlin and they know how his face looks when he sounds this way.

The god leans their head to one side slowly. the stone his vessel is made of groans.

"You are worthy, young warlock. More than you know. Into your hands i command my sword."

Suddenly, there is noise and light and they cover their eyes, everyone except for Merlin and Mordred.

They can't be sure but they think they can hear Merlin's voice through it all, speaking a foreign tongue. Then, it's over.

When the air clears, Merlin stands alone, the stone vessel of the god has crumbled to pieces, a big sword in his hand. For just a moment, when he turns around to face them, he looks nothing like Merlin at all. His eyes are golden, and his face is grim, lips pressed into a thin line. His posture is straight and majestic and he holds the sword like a warrior. His appearance strikes them with fear. He looks like power incarnate.

The others notice from the corners of their eyes that Mordred kneels before him. and even as they are completely bewildered, they have an urge to do the same.

The next moment though, it's all gone, and Merlin looks like he's never handled a sword before. His eyes are blue and his cheeks messy with dust and tears. He sinks to his knees and the weapon falls from his hands - is pushed from his fingers as if through magic, landing on the ground with a strange sound.

Merlin looks after the sword with disgust clear on his face. Then he looks up and suddenly he looks afraid.

To be continued

[valaks]

Hey Valaks! I love your blog and your writing!

Please could you do 1, 10 and 18 for the writing asks?? 🌺

Thank you for the ask! I have added a cut to hopefully not be that person clogging up the feed XD

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

I have a few collabs outstanding like Gemini and a Kabir/Alex sequel to Reunion (It’s rated T at the most so still kid friendly) with Lupin and Devil Went Down to Georgia with Galimau. My utter love for both of my collab partners for pulling me through at a time when I’ve been really struggling. I have a WIPs List but I’ll confess to not having touched most of them in quite sometime (partly from life, partly because I’m not sure how interesting they’d be to anyone else other than me which influences my writing more than I would like to admit):

Good Intentions: Smithers never thought he’d be anyone’s moral compass, he was no angel to sit in anyone’s shoulder but trying to keep Alex Rider from following in the ruthless footsteps of his father or worse his former handler, Alan Blunt is as close to hell as he can imagine. (Wherein Alex becomes head of MI6 we watch his morality slip away form the eyes of an increasingly frustrated and heartbroken Smithers - it all culminates when Alex uses a child “just as an informant, simple information gathering” but hidden behind the charming smile of John Rider and the brutal coldness of Alan Blunt’s words is Alex Rider dying as he says them (Smithers just hopes there’s still a part of the boy he once knew in there to mourn)

Walk the Line: Alex thought he was done with SCORPIA. But they kept creeping back into his life in the most unexpected of ways. He thought he could at least count on it being on the other side until he gets teamed up with Walker, his former classmate and current CIA spy. Unfortunately he still hasn’t been able to figure out whose side Walker is really on - attempted deep cover op like his dad, repatriated rogue spy back on the “good” side, or SCORPIA double agent? He doesn’t know but at least he’s nice....in that obnoxious American way.

Temperamental: (Sequel to Sentimental which isn’t all that popular and you would need to read it for the sequel but basically amnesiac Yassen whose memories stop pre John’s betrayal set during the Stormbreaker mission and features him trying to come to grips with the use of chemical weapons against children and how to handle Alex once he snaps back to reality which is where this starts) Yassen had promised Alex Rider that he would be safe from the world of spying but fate had other ideas. In the days after Sarov’s failed plan, Yassen scrambles to find where MI6 have hidden his wayward charge without drawing Rothman’s attention. A request from one of their existing clients to look into suspicious activity at his son’s former school prompts Yassen to investigate under the guise of offering security. He should have known where there was trouble there would be Alex.

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Lordy do I ever not have a good answer for this. Typically it involves an idea hitting me and then the determination: would this idea work better as a short to post on tumblr (because the set up would take away the tension or would require a multi chapter which is not really my strength), as a prompt to lob out into the ether for someone better and brighter to touch on, or a fic. Once fic is decided I determine whose perspective the fic would be the most interesting from either because it would create the most tension or their internal monologue/background knowledge would add the most to it. Then the summary is written and a title is chosen. If it’s something I’m really passionate about and I already have it in my head I tend to write it all in one go, if there’s more I need to chew on then it’s a series of dates with the Evil Writing App. The final determination is whether it’s good enough for Valaks or if it gets sent to an alt account.

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

Allegedly. I’ll try to go in order of posting -

Ruthless has a sequel where Alex just goes *quiet* once the initial dust as settled it’s unnerving to everyone because they’re not used to having to wonder just what Alex is thinking, at least not behind closed doors but what happened isn’t exactly something that can be recovered from easily, not when Alex isn’t sure who all’s in on it no matter what they’ve told him. Failure is the AU where I considered what would happen to Alex to make him want to torture.

Alibi was originally going to have Yassen show up in the end but I found it far more fascinating if MI6 was just testing Alex so out went Yassen and in went Ben. The sequel to it was torn apart and turned into Warm Reception because I wanted to trope flip SCORPIA comes to Brooklands and decided that it was more logical to have a small fight in Mrs. Bedfordshire’s lobby than anywhere else and I wanted to explore some side characters instead of Ben.

Providence’s sequel thoughts ended up inspiring Gentleman’s Agreement but I did write a small short for it “Yassen and Alex encounter each other on mission. Surprisingly they are working to mostly the same goal - Yassen needs to kill the millionaire who Alex needs to get information from. “I suppose I could answer some questions for you, Sasha. /In Russian/“ “Is now really the time for a language lesson?” he ground out in frustration but the man pointedly ignored him “/Fine but I don’t know some of the words/“ “/Then there is no better way to learn/“

I mentioned the Sentimental sequel but changing Sarov to come first and probable for almost a month before Yassen figures out he’s missing made the most sense. It was also a bit of fun at the Yassen would absolutely take Alex away from MI6....just to throw him in a school and throw away the key. Almost had him send him to Point Blanc but decided that wouldn’t quite fit all that well and wouldn’t be as interesting as if Alex had already gotten his feet back under him with MI6 and now sees that Yassen was right that MI6 would just use him until he’s dead but that doesn’t mean Alex wants to be anywhere near Yassen. Julia Rothman might have other ideas when she finds out what her newest second in command is hiding.

Gentleman’s Agreement.....there’s a lot of thoughts on Sequels and AUs, a lot of them have been written by better people, but that fic was written in 45 minutes so there wasn’t much time to recharacterize or change scenes. It did get Turncoat aka the Alex saves Yassen fic I wanted so badly.

Blood Brothers is a fic I really worked hard on considering how John would feel about his son being thrown into SCORPIA assuming Alex was of age. A rocky marriage was characterization that didn’t quite fit what I imagined would have happened but did fit the story so it stayed in. It was a fic that was supposed to get expanded on - the competition between Hunter and Yassen and Nile and Alex who is desperate to beat his Dad and his “apprentice”. I think two teenagers thrown against each other with a bit of a bone to pick, especially Yassen and Alex who can both hold a grudge even if one runs hot and the other runs cold, would have been compelling and a little fun but the premise and specifically John’s characterization doesn’t quite work out to me.

Found and Legends both have their plotting done but it’ll never see the light of day

Little Moments and Sweetest Thing were my guilty pleasure writing pieces for a while and I have about 1000 DMs of scenes for both of them that are lost to the sands of time and an embarrassing amount of self indulgence

Mates has a follow up ending for those who needed resolution in the comments of it. I’m not sure I did a good job of showing that Tom was in a semi abusive relationship since a lot of people seemed to blame him for him and Alex’s breakup. Most of my headcanons for how their relationship goes have them splitting much sooner just because of Tom’s own home life and either being unable to relate/talk to Alex and drifting away because his Mom throwing a plate at his head isn’t being hung over crocodiles but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt or because Alex is just too dangerous/jumpy to be thrown back into a school environment and lashes out even unintentionally especially not under the pressure of being seen as a failure. School is also a barometer of just how much he’s lost of himself and his childhood, bonus points for Alex being completely upfront with Tom about everything he’s done

In My Sights has an AU where this is all post Christmas at Gunpoint and Yassen is there because he knows Ian is already at Sayle’s factory and will have to be...handled. So two weeks of just getting Alex trained for the protection he might need, connecting him to resources, etc. Ian finding out that Yassen had been there was part of a draft at one point which was included Alex wondering about an all too sincere goodbye from Ian “who never hugged him” but I can’t find the snippet anymore ;__;

A Warm Reception was an alternate version. Originally I wanted it to be Alex watching his last chance at normality slip from his fingers and then the crushing realization that it was something that was his own doing, not even MI6 but Skoda who he had picked a fight with and the accompanying breakdown but then decided that Mrs. Bedfordshire was the right way to go upon writing the summary. Because everyone loves some Outsider POV

Adopted was supposed to be a one chapter throw away trope flip of K Unit adopts Alex. I kept it pretty consistent with Amitai and Lil Lupin’s K Units, tried to add in some more characterization just in how they treated some of the details. It has an alt ending/chapter where they find out Alex is Cub when they pull him from Three’s tender mercies almost by accident. I was persuaded into light humored fluff via guilt trip.

The Truth and Other Deadly Weapons has Ben acting exactly like he think he would in front of everyone but my AU was that this interaction happened in the field and absolutely shattered Ben’s trust in him partly because he had worked for the other side and partly because even if it ‘wasn’t as bad as it looks’ it showed a severe lack of judgment. It also featured several chapters of Alex running into the glass ceiling that is having “Member Malogosto Class of 2004” on your resume. Was going to feature Alex running into Walker as well and into problems within MI6 and the CIA but that was eventually cut and it was kept to one chapter.

Guardian....Guardian holds a very special place in my heart. I was given the prompt of a Monster Fic and I wrote what I knew but the interesting parts were all the ones that come after the story but might come across to a general audience as Hogwarts School of Prayers and Miracles. The plotting done post this was going to feature baby Angel Alex reuniting with his parents but...they were strangers to him and so he stayed with Yassen more and more, followed him, learned from him....it encompassed everything from the dynamics of broken families to reflections on theology and references from the Good Book....which is why it’ll never see the fandom but has a very special place in my heart.

In another, more perfect world Glocking Around the Christmas Tree is the Die hard fic this fandom deserves but as Lupin and I untangled the plot of the movie more and more we just couldn’t make it into anything that would be coherent on paper so it was changed and changed and is now a half finished sad abomination that sits on my works list only because Lupin would kill me if I took it down.

Hot Shot was supposed to feature my current favorite character that is not Nile Abara, John Crawley but I wimped out and changed it at the end because I swore I would write the Crawley fic that we all need. Hear me out: John Crawley knew and worked with John and Ian Rider, was respected by both of them, was recruited by SCORPIA within one year in the field, is the Chief of Staff of MI6, the man who “no one gets a knife in the back without him signing off” and is also the man who walks his dog to check on Alex. There’s a mentorship waiting to happen there, preferably in a nice work study program during college where Alex finally gets to see the repercussions of his missions and Crawley helps try and pull him back from the black mark that SCORPIA would have put on him.

My personal fluffy favorite is the spinoff of Devil Went Down to Georgia where Joe Byrne did pull Alex out post Skeleton Key and brought him home. There’s a pretty extended one about where Tom ends up after Mates. There’s also an actual sequel but ask me no questions and all.

Skipping a few collabs and Febuwhump fics but Burning Questions was just supposed to be Branded - a fic where upon being captured by Razim he is brought in and forcibly branded to differentiate the appearances of Alex and Julius (since Razim has decided to have him killed after shooting the Secretary of State). As a result of the pain levels spiking when Alex actually sees that the SCORPIA logo is branded onto his cheek Razim considers that emotional pain might be something to investigate. There’s a couple thousand words on it, one day I might polish it up.

First Impressions is supposed to be a mirror verse of Alex working for MI6 which includes Three as Blunt, Rothman as Jones and of course Sagitta as K Unit while he’s up against his father as Yassen and Yassen as Crawley. But it was cut down significantly even if the ideas are pretty fun to consider.

Sorry this was probably more than you bargained for but it was fun to get everything out there so thank you for asking

[paganinpurple]

A Feline’s Family - MariChat May 2019

Hi guys, sorry for the lateness of all this. It's been like 18 months since MariChat May 2019, but as you all know I was struggling a lot last year and of course, everyone knows that 2020 has been ~A YEAR~

I've just been more overwhelmed and anti-social than ever and it's taking everything to keep me going to work and eating throughout everything.

Buy Me A Coffee?

AO3

Chapters (If there’s no link, it’s not written yet)

1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10

11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20

21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31

Day 21 - Cold Night

“Feeling any better now, Kitty?” Marinette called as a blond head appeared through her trapdoor. The answer became intuitively obvious as the rest of Adrien rose up into view, a thick blanket covering his shoulders and obscuring the pyjamas he was wearing underneath. As he shuddered with a sudden chill that he was sure only he could feel, he sucked air between his teeth, refusing to let them chatter, lest he worry her.

“Still cold,” he said, fighting the stutter that threatened to surface. “I used up all the hot water,” he continued with a guilty glance up at her, “and got frozen again when the cold came through. So, that was fun.”

She couldn’t help but giggle as his grumpy cat face returned, his lower lip sticking out. She quickly tamed it as another shudder wracked his body and this time the chattering sound made itself known as well.

“Oh! Here!”

He was only beginning to register her words with his last chill-slowed braincell when she flung her arms around him, her gentle hands rubbing up and down his back to share her warmth. He remained stunned – frozen (ha!) in place – even as Tikki and Plagg appeared in his eye line.

“You should ask Plagg to transform you,” Tikki told him, “the suit might not be able to heat you up exactly, but it helps hold onto whatever heat you already have or gain as the night goes on.”

“Yeah great, Sugarcube, just volunteer me and all my energy instead of letting me sleep tonight.”

“Oh shusht, you. It’s a-” -she glanced at Marinette briefly as the girl pressed her face against Adrien’s chest- “-comfort thing. So enough complaining.”

Despite his misery, Adrien chuckled –partly at the exchange in front of him, partly from his giddiness at his proximity to his Lady– until a small sneeze reverberated through him, another threatening to follow. He quickly pulled away from Marinette even though internally he was protesting the idea, already craving another hug. But since he wasn’t sure yet if he was just feeling cold or had caught a cold, he didn’t want to risk infecting her.

“I, um, don’t think it’s a great idea for you to sleep downstairs tonight,” Marinette said when his sneezing had passed, her teeth worrying her lower lip, “The window guy didn’t finish the job today like he promised. There’s probably a horrible draft in there.”

“Yeah. Guess it’s a good thing your dad was suspicious and put off moving my bed earlier.”

It was true. The plan had been to move some of the bare basics into his finished room as the window fitting was completed. He could sleep there at night while they speed-decorated it during the day and hopefully his case worker would be appeased. They all really wanted to avoid any further issues she had with the two teens sharing a room.

But instead Tom had approached Adrien this morning and said he thought he should give him an extra night or two “just in case.” Adrien had frowned as he supposed Tom must have been wary of the contractors promised timescale, though he had thought that was odd at the time. The guy had seemed like a total professional and as far as he knew, had only been held up today by an abnormality in the wall which made sealing the facing more difficult than expected.

“Oh,” Marinette said flatly, “That’s…good.” She chewed her lip harder and he winced a little in sympathy even as he fought back another sneeze.

“Kid, I just checked your bed, and it is freezing over there,” Plagg said, dashing between them, “The window must have been open earlier or something. You do not want to sleep over there tonight.”

“You just don’t want to have to work to keep me warm,” he grumbled, sniffing back another sneeze as he spoke, “So tell me Plagg, where am I supposed to sleep?”

“Duh. All the heat in this place rises, so-”

“Oh!” gasped Tikki, suddenly catching on, “Marinette’s skylight is practically airtight. No heat escapes unless she opens the vent to let it. So, her bed is the warmest of all!”

“Tikki!” Adrien shouted, scandalised. He looked back to the girl standing in front of him and immediately noticed how she refused to meet his eye, instead glancing at a random spot on the floor. With her feet turned inwards slightly, and her arm reaching behind her to grip the opposite elbow, timidity radiated from her with every breath.

“Actually,” she started, turning her head a little towards him, but still not quite meeting his eyeline, “I was thinking the same thing.”

Adrien’s pupils shrunk to tiny specs, even as the rest of his eyes seemed to enlarge to fill up the remaining space on his face. He watched as she shuffled in place a little, enchantingly nervous but eager for his response.

“Are you…asking me to…take your bed?” He watched, fascinated, as the pink hue across her cheeks darkened and spread out further.

“It’s the warmest place in the whole apartment,” she said to his shoulder as she continued with her miniscule attempts towards eye contact, “and it’s where I sleep. So, I can always help keep you warm too.”

He blinked rapidly and a wonderfully cosy blush spread across his cheeks briefly before the heat was absorbed by the chill of his skin. “I am trying so hard not to make the kind of comment that usually gets me throw off buildings,” he admitted bluntly.

She choked on an adorable little snort-laugh and her eyes finally inched up the last of the remaining distance as he joined in, their rising giggles harmonising together beautifully. A tickle in his nose gave him a brief moment of warning and he turned his head away in time to prevent himself from sneezing all over the laughter-flushed girl in front of him.

“Aw, poor kitty,” she cooed, running her hands through his damp hair, even as her face bloomed with heat, “Tell you what. I’m gonna go make a hot water bottle for you. Head on up to bed and get bundled up. Plagg, take care of him while I’m gone, will you?”

“Can do, Spots,” the little black creature answered and the two of them watched as their other halves disappeared through the trapdoor together. Plagg turned back to his charge with a satisfied smirk, “You heard the lady, up the stairs to bed!”

“Oh my God,” the teen said in sudden awkward terror, “I’m really gonna share a bed with her tonight.”

Plagg rolled his eyes at the squeak of his voice and gave a long-suffering dramatic sigh, but his fond smile gave away the true affection he felt for the boy. “Yup,” he said as he started to gently push Adrien towards the ladder, only stopping when the stunned boy began to climb upwards on autopilot.

He managed to crawl across the mattress, and it was with a little assistance from the kwami that he got under the pink covers, blanket still wrapped around him beneath them. His mind was running a million miles a minute and he hated the foggy way his thoughts were forming because of how cold he was. He knew Marinette considered the two of them best friends on a completely different level than either of them saw Alya or Nino, but this was pushing those friend boundaries more than usual. The two girls could share a bed, or the two guys and it was fine, but this? A boy and a girl sharing a room was considered odd enough. His case worker had insisted he get his own room, or he would be removed from the Dupain-Cheng’s care, so for him to sleep on the same mattress as Marinette? Under the same duvet?

“Doesn’t she realise just how this is gonna…I mean, Plagg, isn’t she freaked out? She knows I like her. Does this mean-” he coughed awkwardly to break off his thoughts before he voiced them, “Isn’t she worried about sending me mixed signals or something?”

“Oh, my Me,” Plagg groaned, a phrase he had taking a liking to after it had made Adrien laugh once during a conversation about Plagg technically being a god. The small creature facepalmed with a sigh, “Kid, please tell me you’re joking. If you can’t see that Spots has it bad for you by now, then I don’t know how to convince you.”

The warm blush that swam across his face once more was a pleasant change to his frozen state. He smiled softly as Plagg’s words sunk into his heart deeper and deeper, drowning in the gooey affection they caused there.

“I was worried I was just imaging it,” he mumbled softly, “I still think I might be.”

“Uh huh. And I’m that pleasant white fluffball pooch from down the street.” His tiny paws came up to rest on non-existent hips. “She’s crazy about you. Tikki thinks she’s just scared to tell you in case you suddenly change your mind. I think she’s just awkward as heck and has no idea how to bring it up.”

“So, you think that I should-”

The trapdoor opened and Adrien clamped his mouth shut as Marinette reappeared, pyjama clad and looked delectable with her hair splayed loose across her shoulders. She took a moment to turn out the lights before she ascended the ladder rungs and joined him.

A blossoming of warmth spread out across his chest as she shyly pressed a hot water bottle into his arms. He smiled as he took in the calico design on the cover, and the nervous way the girl tried to adjust herself to get comfortable, clearly very aware of his presence so close beside her.

“This is nice,” he said with a short sniff.

“Yeah,” she whispered with a shy smile, eyes pinned to the pillow beneath her.

“Rest of me still feels cold though.” He smiled as she finally glanced at him properly. “Could I get a hug to warm up?”

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she considered it. “Will you transform first so you stay warm?” she asked.

“Plagg, claws out.”

The light from his transformation hadn’t even faded fully when she snuggled into him, her face tucked into the crook of his neck and the cosy calico pressed into his chest tightly by her own. He wound his arms around her as hers in turn settled against him. He considered tucking a leg around her own but stopped himself before he took that step, fearing it might have been one too far.

“Did Plagg take care of you while I was gone?” she asked and the feel of her breath against his neck made him shudder in a way completely unrelated to his temperature.

“Yeah. Yeah, he was great really. He talked with me for a change instead of driving me crazy, so I guess that counts as exceptional care.” Her giggle reverberated through him and he decided he should get sick more often.

“I’m glad,” she said, her calf unexpectedly sliding against his and tucking under it loosely, as his heart stopped briefly, “I was w-worried he might make fun of you over this.”

“This?” he squeaked, clearing his throat quietly before he continued, “Nah. He was actually…really helpful. Cheered me up a bit as well.”

“Rea-” -She gave a loud yawn- “-lly?”

“Yeah. He said something to me, you know?”

“Mm hmm.”

“He told me that I’m not imaging some of the things I’ve been wondering about lately.”

“Hmm.”

“He said that you…Marinette? You know I like you, right? Uh, love you, actually.”

There. It was the first time since their identity reveals that he had said it out loud. He exhaled heavily. She didn’t respond.

“So, I need to know, do you like me? The same way that I like you?”

Silence.

“Marinette?”

He pulled back enough to glance down at the girl snuggled against him. Her brow furrowed adorably at the loss of contact and her arms loosely pulled him back in towards her. She had fallen asleep at the moment of his emotional vulnerability and all he could think was that she was the most gorgeous creature alive. The view warmed his heart even as he shuddered at another sudden chill.

“Hmm. Purrs,” she mumbled sleepily, and he realised she was right. The sight of her and the feel of her arms around him had elicited a deep rumble in his chest.

Giving into the happiness he felt in the moment, despite the lack of an answer to his own internal dilemma, Chat replaced his head on the pillow and allowed the sleeping girl to cuddle into him tighter. He sniffed away the discomfort in his nose and gave into the soothing rumble and their mingled breathing as he fell asleep.

Buy Me A Coffee?

Hope you enjoyed!

Shouldn't be too long for another chapter. Next one's already written. Bit of editing...next weekend, I think. Gives me more time to write some more for other chapters too

[amostimprobabledream]

Why I hate Grace.

I was giving my thoughts on Peaky Blinders a few weeks ago and I danced around the subject of my dislike for this character but didn’t have time/room to get it all out. So here it is! Grace fans, you probably want to look away now. So to me, Grace is kind of symbolic of the bad writing on Peaky Blinders, which is especially egregious because usually the writing of the show is good. But right off the bat, her arrival creates a number of plotholes that don't resonate with Tommy's character. Just for a start, nobody seems to find it suspicious that an apparently attractive woman (seriously, people go on and on about how pretty Grace is and while it's not as though she's ugly at all, you can't help but wonder if the Peaky boys merely think so because she's the only woman of significance not related to them) is so determined to be a barmaid in The Garrison, where Tommy, upon seeing her, immediately asks her if she's a whore. Grace is understandably offended by the question, which again makes you wonder why she'd want to work somewhere where such a question isn't just an assumption, but the first thing Tommy asks - we know she's a spy, but the other characters don't.

Then, Tommy corners Grace and starts asking why she keeps being so nosy about the Blinders and their business. They go for a walk and Tommy asks Grace if she's a Catholic. She says she is, but when Tommy points out that no good Catholic girl would walk into a church without making the cross, he immediately exposes her as a liar and points out he also knows that she lied to him about what town she was from, because he asked around and nobody had ever heard of her. So what does he do? He...promotes her to being his secretary? What?

Okay, so you might argue that Tommy puts her in said position to keep an eye on her, or thinks she might be useful if she has the balls to lie to him, but she tells such an easy-to-unravel lie and her excuse is because she wants to "fit in". Again, he lets her off the hook but she covers up a lie with an even more obvious one  - if Grace cared about fitting in, she'd make more of an effort to do so, but she keeps demanding Tommy let her sing in the pub and asks questions above her station to Arthur, which got reported back to Tommy. Sure, it's her job to spy on the Peaky boys, but she's so transparent about it that it's honestly ridiculous that Tommy would ever put her in a position that close to his personal affairs. Not to mention, Grace is so inexplicably haughty towards Tommy, telling him, "You disappoint me" when he kisses her. You'd think if she was good at her job, she'd learn to shut her mouth and keep her head down like a decent spy, but she always acts as if she's better than Tommy because, like Polly points out, she's a spoiled little rich girl at heart and she does think herself above the Shelby's.

Then Tommy completely inexplicably chooses to give Grace a fucking gun and tells her some men are going to come in and try to kill him and he's relying on her to bail him out. I know the cops were meant to come in at the stroke of six and they fuck up, but WHY would you ever place that level of trust in someone you already know is a liar? Sorry, but I just don't buy that Tommy was blinded by "love". I can buy that maybe he was curious about Grace, possibly even fancied her a bit, but definitely not so stupid that he thinks it's a good idea to put his fucking life in the hands of a woman he knows basically nothing about. She could have fallen out of the sky for all he knows. Tommy even continues to trust Grace after she kills an IRA guy right in front of him because she sobs, "I didn't know I had it in me like that", yet she disobeyed his instructions and whenever Arthur or John do that, Tommy gives them a bollocking. He lets Grace off, again, for seemingly no reason other than she played the damsel in distress role and he buys it. This doesn't make Tommy look like a smart man blinded by love, it just makes him look like an idiot around Grace.

Also, there seems to be an uncomfortable level in Tommy/Grace of Tommy getting a kick out of using Grace to piss Campbell off. It's pretty obvious Campbell has a creepy crush on her, and Tommy exploits that for all it's worth when he explicitly rings Campbell to inform him that he's going to bang Grace. (Incidentally, their sex scene made me go, "Oh, I guess they're gonna fuck now. Yup." It was like they did it because the screenwriter said so.) He's basically cucking Campbell and I think it's a big reason why even Grace fans admit that she's "not as good" in Season Two - Grace just doesn't work without Campbell around. At least in Season One you can argue that every shitty thing Grace does to Tommy/the Peaky Blinders is partly because of her job as a spy and Campbell is her boss. In Season Two, there are no excuses for the way Grace acts. She's a selfish, self-righteous hypocrite. She jumps at the chance to go to Birmingham on the offchance it was Tommy who called, then acts all offended when he assumes she came to sleep with him, to the point she actually smacks him in the face. What does Tommy do about this? Nothing. When Grace complains they could have run away to New York together, all Tommy says is, "I had things to do", instead of asking Grace why she thinks he'd abandon his family, business, friends and country all to chase after the woman who sold him out to his worst enemy. Grace honestly expected Tommy to put her first after everything she did to him. I won't act like Tommy is a saint in this - he did nearly pimp her out to Billy Kimber - but at least he acknowledges it was wrong of him to do and he never acts like he occupies any moral highground like Grace does. When Grace admits she sold Tommy out, she sobs she "did a terrible thing," yet never tries to actually help him out in a way that would put her at risk - she quit her position, sure, but Campbell's creepiness had gone so far as to propose marriage to her, Grace was still looking out for herself when she left, because it got her away from Campbell. She asked Campbell to spare him, knowing full well that Campbell has wanted Tommy dead since day one. She plays the damsel in distress again and she's pissed when Tommy doesn't fall for it a second time. Then when she talks about her husband, she tries to rub it in Tommy's face how he's “a good, kind man”, but then quickly backtracks on that to fuck Tommy anyway because her husband is impotent - and Grace just can't deal with not getting what she wants. Tommy's rich enough to afford to buy a house for Ada and Polly by this point, he's running Birmingham and seeking to expand into London, so Grace pulls the oldest trick in the book and gets pregnant - then Tommy has to do the responsible thing and marry her, because the baby is his and it's literally the only piece of leverage she has over May. (May even points out that she's been stringing Tommy along and all Grace can do is throw the fact that "Grace's Secret" is the horse's name at her. Again though, did Tommy call it that to piss off Campbell? This was before Grace returned to Small Heath but after Campbell had, so I think yes.)

Then in Season Three, again, Grace is pretty much a pointless character, because she has no purpose anymore outside of being "Tommy's wife". Campbell is dead and so the conflict of her character in Season One, as contrived as that was, is gone. People complain about Grace being stuffed into a fridge and whatnot, (and tbh, you could say that about Freddie, but Freddie also served his purpose in Season One after he buried the hatchet with Tommy), but honestly I think that it was all they could think to do with her because Charlotte Riley was unable to pick up her role as May for Season Three, so they had to work around it. It's the only explanation I can think of about why Grace is just such a blatantly awful person in the Second Season - I've heard people say before that Tommy leaving the field after his assassination was prevented would have been the perfect ending to the season, but that scene at the end where he returns to The Garrison and announces he's getting married seemed really hastily tacked-on - I feel like it was added because they were forced to rewrite the drafts for Season Three and put whatever plans for May they had on the shelf. Not to mention, Grace's actress Annabelle Wallis has apparently stated she hates May because she's "annoying" and "gets inbetween Tommy and Grace". No, Grace got in the way of Tommy and Grace - she's the one who chose to leave Birmingham after she got exposed as a Mole instead of taking the consequences! And also, how is May the annoying one? At least she doesn’t whisper all her lines. It's just so immature of the actress to bash on the character and encourage ship wars, especially considering Grace comes out the winner of the love triangle, so what's the bitterness about? (I've not heard what her opinion is on Lizzie, but I doubt it's as hostile, because it's made obvious in the show that Tommy doesn't love Lizzie the same and the poor girl is constantly competing with a dead woman for her husband's love.) Plus, in Season Three, the wedding is all about not upsetting Grace, Tommy's family have to play nice with Grace's family, and Polly is once again the only person who knocks Grace's smug ass down a peg by reminding her that the family haven't forgiven or forgotten Grace's crimes against them - the only reason they're putting up a pretence of tolerating her is for Tommy's sake. Not hers. Not everybody in the world wants to accommodate Grace. Killing Grace was honestly the highlight of the entire Season, because I couldn't stand watching her smirking over how she got everything she wanted when she didn't pay for any of it. (Polly is also the only one who comments on how Tommy has conveniently forgotten all the shit she pulled on him and Tommy acts like she was a totally innocent bystander when she got killed and it’s like, no, Tommy, baby. Grace knew what she was getting into when she married him and he knew that - it’s pretty much common knowledge that everybody who is even tangentially associated with the Peaky Blinders gets hurt eventually, just look at how Ada was nearly gangraped even though she hadn’t been involved with the family business for two years.)

Come Season Four and Five and there's already a problem here - there is still more to talk about with Grace, even though she’s dead and Tommy spends most of Season Three rampaging over her death. But he just inexplicably won't let go of her. And again, this doesn't come across as Tommy being so in love with Grace he can't fathom a world without her, it comes off like her actress has dirt on the director or something. He constantly hallucinates the bitch, we hear her singing all the time, it's kind of implied that Tommy prefers Charles over Ruby because Charles a boy and has a saintly dead mummy while Ruby is the daughter of a former whore (not that Tommy doesn't love Ruby, obviously, because he absolutely does), and what really annoys me about Tommy hallucinating Grace is that she's the only character he does this with. He doesn't dream about Greta, his first love, he doesn't dream of Danny or Freddie or his mother. He doesn't even fucking dream about John! Remember John, Tommy's little brother he knew his entire life? Apparently nobody else does! No, it's always all about Grace, who keeps helpfully telling Tommy to hurry up and kill himself so he can be with her again. This doesn’t seem like an out-of-character, guilt-induced vision - it mimicks her attitude in Season Two, that nothing else in his life can be as important as she is.

And that's why I hate Grace. (Please don’t send me rude or hateful messages over this post, it’s just my opinion and it’s pretty much irrelevant anyway since I doubt Stephen Knight is going to stop using Grace up as some kind of martyred dead saint anytime soon. I just wanted to get this rant out of my system.)

[floofsol]

a promise’s a promise

word count: 1.5k (i apologise, this is a lot longer than i usually do)

member: Joshua

genre: mafia!joshua. prosecutor!reader, irritatingly posh-is!hreader

summary/prompt: you and your best friend made a pact. you both agreed that if neither of you had gotten married by the age 30 then you’d marry one another. it’s now time to fulfil that promise, the thing is, over the years, your best friend has become the leader of mafia. you have become city’s top prosecutor

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood and violence

a/n: i got this prompt from an ig account called writing.prompts.re and the moment i saw it, i thought it was perfect to write about sooooo here it is :))) on a side note, i do try to keep my reader’s “character” as genderless as possible, but i finally realise that i can do more to be more accepting. so from now on, i’m going to use they/them pronouns for the reader and if you notice, i also try to keep the reader’s past relationships genderless as well so that i don’t stay too heteronormative. so i really hope that you won't mind and this will obviously change how i write but i hope that you can still appreciate it anyway!!

You were never known for a sloppy memory. But you have never wanted to forget anything more than this, considering the reminder was in your hand. Said reminder was in the form of a letter. Now that you look at the letter, you even remember writing it...you remember sitting at the cafe with your best friend at that time. And if you think even harder, you can roughly recall how the conversation went...

“This is just sad....”, you pouted.

“What is? The fact you get to spend time with your best friend???” Jisoo was starting to tease you about your mood. You felt the biggest eyeroll come out of you.

“No, you idiot. I’m probably gonna end up sad and alone...I doubt I’m gonna be married by 30...”A sigh came out of you. You knew it was still a little young to think about it but being an only child, your parents had always told you that you would need to carry on the family line. But how were you going to that when you barely had time to have a relationship in the first place? How would you even find som-

“Hmm how about this....if the both of us aren’t married by 30....we’ll marry each other.” Jisoo said it with such confidence that you almost agreed without actually processing the idea.

“The fuck? You complain that my crackheadedness is tiring already and you want propose a marriage?” Needless to say, you were at a lost for words.

“Well...it is sort of a last resort for the both of us. And I’m pretty sure that the both of us will find someone by then....soooo, deal?” 

You could tell that he was being serious about this, that this wasn’t a jokey “haha here’s a weird idea”. And you thought to yourself, ‘Why not? It’s not like Jisoo would be the worst person to marry if it came down to it..’

“Then, it’s a deal. If we are both lonely, sad losers at the age of thirty, we’ll marry each other. Let’s seal the deal with a letter...” You declared your decision.

Why younger you chose a letter you can’t remember well but knowing yourself, it would have had something to do with a letter writing phase at that time of life. It would get really stressful and writing letters were therapeutic for you. You had found one of those services that holds on to letters and that would send them out at a later date. Both you and Jisoo agreed for the date to be the first day of the year after since Jisoo was born near end of year so a few days wouldn’t hurt right.

And with the letter dealt with, the both of you had went on with your lives. You remember that you parted ways with him because you disagreed with some friends of his. They would sometimes get into trouble and with you studying law, you didn’t know how to feel about this and when you voiced your troubles to Jisoo, he had dismissed them entirely and said that if you didn’t like it, you could leave. And to his surprise, you actually did. 

With that letter in your hand, you brushed the thought aside. You knew long ago that it was a joke. And you left for work, knowing that with your recent promotion to the top prosecutor position, you would have a mountain of cases to look through. The blood, sweat and tears that took for you to finally be promoted to this esteemed position paid off. You knew that it was an honour to be where you wanted to be. This expectation stemmed from your own overachieving tendencies and the fact that your parents had also worked in law, along with several family members. Being an only child only fuelled that expectation further and as such, people who were close to you understood that sometimes you had to pour your free time into cases as well. You had lost many relationships that way, with your partners saying that you never spared them any time or that you loved your job more than them or the fact that you could always procure a solid point in any fight due to your experience in court. 

And with every failed relationship, you came to accept that with your work life, you would never be able to find a partner understanding enough. Although that meant that you having a lasting relationship was low, you were content. That feeling came from knowing that you tried and you could accept if it wasn't written in the book of fate for you to find a loving partner. 

The letter brought you back down to earth. You were shocked, to say the least, that you didn't even open it until you drove to work. You obviously knew what was written inside but weren’t ready to face it yet but you knew you would have to sooner or later. You heaved a sigh and read the letter;

Dear future me,

I know that this might be sudden and this might not even apply to you now but you made a deal. Do you remember it? The deal might not even apply ti you now and it might sound crazy but hear me -yourself- out okay?

If you aren’t married by now, well then you are kind of engaged to JIsoo...go give him a call or something

And if you are, well then, you can throw this or keep it for a laugh lol

Love,

Me

You recalled how close the two of you were. All the random hang outs and Netflix sessions at each others houses. All those sweet moments where you remembered why the both of you because friends in the first place. Those thoughts brought a grin to your face.

Until you remembered why the friendship broke off..

You were starting to worry about Jisoo. Especially about the company he was hanging out with. They were definitely not of the savoury type. You passed it off at first, until you realised that it was affecting Jisoo as well. And that was when you knew, you had to speak up about it once and for all.

You were nervous. This would obviously not be a very comfortable experience but you just knew it had to be done. You decided that it would be best to bring it up as nonchalantly as you could which happened to be during a platonic Netflix and chill session. 

“Hey Jisoo,” you began shakily.

“Yea?” He seemed to not expect anything, which was advantageous to you.

“Umm, about you know, Seungcheol and your other friends...are you sure it’s...you know...in your best interest to be uhh hanging out with them?” It took you a lot of effort to bring this up. 

He heaved a sigh.

“y/n, it’s really none of business and also not in your best interest to ask...Plus, it’s not like you know what’s best for me and you also do not know anything about them.. ” Jisoo was understandably irritated. This was not the first time that you had hinted about this. 

His comment had really gotten under your skin. What’s best for him?? He says that you would not know, even though you spent the better half of your lives looking out and taking care of each other. And yet, he now cites that you don’t know anything about them either...

“I know plenty about the riff-raff you are hanging out with. They are borderline CRIMINALS!” You don’t know why you had shouted that last word but it definitely took a weight off your chest. 

It also seemed to dislodge Jisoo’s surprisingly calm attitude. 

“You don’t know anything so don’t say shit that you will never understand! You were brought up with privilege you never knew you had. My friends didn’t so I don't see what’s wrong with me making sure that get that privilege now. And that’s all I’m going to say about it. If you aren’t happy, then you can leave.”

And you did. You left that day and never looked back on your friendship. And if you had physically turned around that moment, you would have seen the broken look on Jisoo’s face. But you walked off, towards the future that you never knew was coming. 

The memories plagued you sometimes and there were moments where you felt guilty, after all in your line of work, you knew that sometimes the accused were partly innocent but a job was a job. And with that memory resurfacing, you shook it off and continued your day as per normal. 

It was a long day, full of paperwork and meetings about new cases and everyone was blabbering about a group that was becoming dangerously powerful. It was a mafia at this point and you knew that one day, you would have to face them and try your best to put them behind bars. 

You were more than happy to reach home and take a nice long shower and just..relax for ten minutes. But before you could even put your bags down, your phone rang. 

It annoyed you. The probability of it being someone from work calling about a missing file was high. And you answered the phone with an annoyed, “What”

“Is that how you greet everyone, darling?” 

The voice was lilting and somewhat familiar and yet, you couldn't place your finger on it. 

aight imma end it here for now, this has been in the drafts for a while as i was slowly writing this

as usual, feedback is welcomed!! thanks for making it this far!!!!